OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 


After  the  painting  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  in  the 
National  Portrait  Gallery 


IRVING'S 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 


EDITED 
WITH  INTRODUCTION  AND  NOTES 


CHARLES   ROBERT  GASTON 

TEACHER  OF  ENGLISH,  RICHMOND  HILL  HIGH  SCHOOL 
NEW  YORK  CITY 


BOSTON,  U.S.A. 

GINN  &  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1903,  BY 
CHARLES  ROBERT  GASTON 


ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 
2S.I 


[Permission  to  reprint  the  Oliver  Goldsmith  has  been  granted  by  Geo.  P.  Putnam's 
Sons,  publishers  of  the  authorized  and  complete  editions  of  Irving's  works.] 


TO 
JAMES    MORGAN    HART 

BY  WHOM   THE   EDITOR   HAS  BEEN   LED 

TO  A 
FINER  APPRECIATION 

OF 
WASHINGTON   IRVING 


2234726 


PREFACE 

THE  introductory  matter  in  this  volume  aims  to  induce  in 
the  average  high-school  pupil  the  right  attitude  with  which 
to  begin  reading  the  biography.  The  annotation  is  thought 
to  be  not  over-elaborate  nor  too  scant.  The  student  is 
encouraged  to  work  out  for  himself  points  the  significance 
of  which  he  might  miss  without  aid.  (See  remarks  at  the 
top  of  page  355.)  The  topics  and  questions,  which  are 
inserted  at  the  ends  of  the  chapters,  will  accomplish  their 
purpose  if  they  arouse  a  class  to  enthusiastic  discussion  of 
the  biography  or  direct  the  individual  reader  to  a  clear  and 
comprehensive  view  of  Irving's  work.  The  chronological 
table  is  meant  for  reference.  Included  in  the  table  are  the 
dates  of  issue  of  the  college  entrance  texts  published  during 
the  period  1728-1859. 

The  editor  has  kept  in  mind  throughout  the  book  the  fact 
^hat  this  biography  is  set  down  in  the  college  entrance  list 
for  reading  rather  than  study.  Nevertheless,  he  has  believed 
that  probably  most  school  courses  will  devote  a  month  to  the 
Oliver  Goldsmith,  and  that  in  such  cases  the  line  between 
reading  and  study  ought  not  to  be  sharply  drawn.  If  so 
much  time  is  allowed,  this  edition  will  suggest  ways  of  spend- 
ing it  advantageously.  If  less  time  is  apportioned  to  the 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

volume,  the  topics  and  questions  and  the  notes  regarding 
Irving's  vocabulary  need  not  be  considered  fully. 

The  text  is,  in  the  main,  that  of  a  late  authorized  edition 
published  by  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  who  have  obligingly 
granted  permission  to  reprint.  Some  of  the  differences 
noted  between  the  latest  text  and  the  first  edition  are  men- 
tioned on  page  363.  The  three  different  biographies  of 
Goldsmith  by  Irving  are  described  in  the  footnote,  page  xii. 

BROOKLYN,  September  16,  1903. 


CONTENTS 

• 

INTRODUCTION:  PAGK 

I.    IRVING  AND  HIS  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH xi 

II.   CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE xxiv 

III.     NOTE    CONCERNING   THE    TOPICS    AND    QUESTIONS  xxix 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 3 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH  :  A  BIOGRAPHY       5 

GENERAL  TOPICS 351 

NOTES 355 


ix 


INTRODUCTION 


I.    IRVING  AND    HIS    OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

It  might  seem  a  remarkable  fact  that  in  1848,  when 
he  was  over  sixty  years  old,  Washington  Irving  thought 
his  popularity  as  a  writer  had  ended,  but  that  only  a  few 
years  later,  after  the  republication  of  his  works  had  been 
undertaken  by  Mr.  George  P.  Putnam,  large  sums  were  made 
from  the  widely  extending  sale.  Yet  this  feeling  of  the 
author  is  perfectly  natural  when  the  characteristics  of  the 
man  are  considered.  Irving  was  of  a  shrinking,  delicately 
grained  disposition.  His  life  from  beginning  to  end  was 
marked  by  unobtrusive  attention  to  letters,  and  his  years  of 
maturity  were  made  notable  by  a  sunny,  wholesome,  literary 
productiveness. 

The  strange  thing  might  seem  to  be  that  a  man  of  so 
well-regulated  a  life  as  Irving's  could  sympathize  with  an 
Oliver  Goldsmith,  palliate  his  many  heedless  blunders,  and 
even  apologize  for  his  apparently  inexcusable  irregularities. 
Irving  had  so  hearty  a  regard  for  the  subject  of  his  biog- 
raphy that  it  is  doubtful  whether  any  person  not  already 
hopelessly  callous  can  close  the  volume  without  sharing  in 
the  author's  bias  toward  the  gifted  but  unfortunate  poet, 
essayist,  novelist,  and  writer  of  dramas,  "  Poor  Goldsmith." 
It  will  be  of  interest  to  find  out,  first,  what  started  Irving 
into  the  project  of  a  biography  of  Goldsmith;  in  the  second 
place,  how  long  he  was  in  completing  the  work;  thirdly, 
what  success  the  book  met ;  fourthly,  what  incidents  in  his 
career  and  what  characteristics  of  his  genius  corresponded, 
however  slightly,  with  those  in  the  life  and  character  of 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

Goldsmith ;  and,  lastly,  what  was  the  general  course  of  Irv- 
ing's  tranquil  literary  life.  Answers  to  these  questions  will 
explain  sufficiently  what  should  be  known  about  Irving  by 
every  school  reader  of  the  Oliver  Goldsmith. 

The  first  three  queries  may  be  answered  quite  briefly.  The 
biography  of  Washington  Irving  by  his  nephew,  Mr.  Pierre 
M.  Irving,  throws  li'ght  on  the  subject.  In  August,  1849, 
Washington  Irving  called  at  the  office  of  his  nephew,  and 
"  speaking  of  his  fagging  at  the  Life  of  Goldsmith?  two  or 
three  chapters  of  which  he  had  still  to  write,  said  that  it 
had  taken  more  time  than  he  could  afford  —  had  plucked  the 
heart  out  of  his  summer;  and  after  all  he  could  only  play 
with  the  subject.  He  had  no  time  to  finish  it  off  as  he 
wished."  Irving  was  at  this  time  making  a  revised  edition 
of  his  works  and  had  brought  out  all  but  two  volumes, 
A  Chronicle  of  the  Conquest  of  Granada  and  The  Alhambra. 
Yet  he  had  interrupted  the  preparation  of  this  new  edition 
and  the  composition  of  his  Life  of  Washington  in  order  to 
take  up  the  Goldsmith.  "  It  was  a  sudden  literary  freak," 
says  Pierre  Irving,  "  similar  to  that  which  had  induced  him, 
when  first  in  Spain,  to  break  off  from  Columbus  in  order  to 
begin  the  chronicles  of  Granada,  and  had  subsequently  drawn 
him  aside  to  his  Moorish  Chronicles." 

1  This  title,  which  is  a  handy  designation  chosen  by  Washington  Irving's 
nephew  and  which  is  the  form  usually  quoted,  is  inaccurate.  Washington 
Irving  wrote,  besides  an  inconsequential  abridgment  published  'in  Paris  in  1825 
and  in  Philadelphia  in  1830,  two  distinct  biographies  of  Goldsmith.  The  first, 
entitled,  The  Life  of  Oliver  Goldsmith,  was  published  in  1840  (Harper  &  Bros.) ; 
it  is  part  of  an  i8mo  two-volume  edition  of  Goldsmith's  writings.  The  "  bio- 
graphical sketch,"  as  it  is  called  in  the  table  of  contents,  contains  one  hundred 
seventy-nine  pages,  not  divided  into  chapters.  The  second,  published  in  1849 
(Geo.  P.  Putnam),  is  entitled  Oliver  Goldsmith  :  A  Biography.  This  is  the  book 
included  in  the  uniform  entrance  requirements  for  1906, 1907,  and  1908.  It  is,  in 
the  first  edition,  a  I2mo  volume  of  three  hundred  eighty-two  pages,  divided  into 
forty-five  chapters.  Copies  of  both  these  books  have  been  used  freely  by  the 
present  editor  in  the  Astor  Library,  to  the  officers  of  which  institution,  especially 
Mr.  L.  S.  Judd,  acknowledgments  are  gratefully  made  for  numerous  courtesies. 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

This  "  sudden  freak "  to  take  up  the  life  of  Goldsmith 
had  its  origin  in  the  interest  which  Irving  took  in  Forster's 
biography  of  Goldsmith.  One  day  when  Irving  was  looking 
at  Forster's  new  book,  in  the  office  of  Mr.  George  P.  Putnam, 
he  said  that  he  believed  he  would  himself  write  a  life  of 
Goldsmith.  He  had  previously,  in  1825,  made,  as  he  says 
himself,  "  a  mere  modification  of  an  interesting  Scottish 
memoir "  of  Goldsmith  for  a  Paris  edition  of  Goldsmith's 
works,  and  this  sketch  had  already  in  America  been  com- 
pletely rewritten  and  prefixed  to  selections  from  Goldsmith 
in  Harper's  "  Family  Library."  It  was  therefore  not  diffi- 
cult for  the  author  to  get  to  work  on  the  proposed  larger 
biography,  which  the  publisher  heartily  urged  him  to  under- 
take. Inside  of  two  months,  says  Mr.  Putnam,  the  first 
sheets  of  the  Oliver  Goldsmith  were  in  the  printer's  hands, 
and  the  volume  was  published  in  two  or  three  weeks. 

When  the  book  came  out,  Mr.  Pierre  Irving  congratulated 
his  uncle  on  the  quality  of  his  work,  whereupon  Washington 
Irving  replied  that  he  had  been  afraid  to  look  at  it  since 
completion,  because  he  had  never  done  anything  else  in  such 
a  hurry.  He  felt  that  he  ought  to  have  had  more  time  for  it. 
He  complained  that  he  had  knocked  off  the  work  in  an  offhand 
manner  which  was  not  characteristic  of  most  of  his  writing. 

Though  written  hurriedly,  the  Oliver  Goldsmith  had  an 
immediate  and  wide  popularity.  A  first  edition  of  twenty- 
five  hundred  was  all  disposed  of  by  September  19,  1849, 
and  a  second  edition  of  two  thousand  was  well  under  way. 
Highly  commendatory  reviews  were  partly  responsible  for  this 
success.  In  a  review  published  by  the  Tribune,  Mr.  George 
Ripley,  the  literary  editor  of  that  paper,  said  among  other 
things,  "  With  a  genial  admiration  of  Goldsmith,  with  a  cor- 
dial appreciation  of  the  spirit  of  his  writings,  and  with  many 
similar  intellectual  tendencies,  Irving  has  portrayed  the  varied 
picture  of  Goldsmith's  life  with  a  grace  and  elegance  that 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

make  his  narrative  as  charming  a  piece  of  composition  as 
can  be  found  in  the  whole  range  of  his  former  works."  In 
conclusion  Mr.  Ripley  added  that  there  could  not  be  a  more 
admirable  description  of  the  influence  of  Irving's  own  writ- 
ings than  that  author  had  given  of  Goldsmith  in  the  open- 
ing paragraph  of  the  biography.  When  reviews  like  these 
were  freely  contributed  to  contemporary  periodicals,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  the  volume  was  an  immediate  success  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  publisher. 

Why,  in  the  fourth  place,  the  sage  of  Sunnyside  was  able 
to  write  successfully  the  life  of  Oliver  Goldsmith  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  understand.  Irving  had  sympathy  and  penetration. 
His  knack  for  catching  the  spirit  of  the  life  of  any  character 
in  whom  he  was  interested  was  remarkable.  Even  in  the 
case  of  Columbus  and  Washington,  about  the  details  of 
whose  lives  much  has  been  learned  by  the  painstaking  his- 
torians of  later  years,  Irving  was  able  to  comprehend  the 
essential  man  and  to  present  a  faithful  and  true  conception. 
In  his  Oliver  Goldsmith,  also,  by  this  same  insight  into 
human  motives,  Irving  has  presented  a  picture  that  remains 
an  adequate  and  trustworthy  delineation  of  the  man  Oliver 
Goldsmith,  even  though  later  biographers  may  have  added 
a  few  details  regarding  the  mere  facts  in  his  life. 

There  were,  too,  a  few  special  reasons,  due  to  similarity 
of  temperament  and  external  circumstance,  why  Irving  wrote 
sympathetically  and  understandingly  concerning  Goldsmith. 
Both  were  men  who  shrunk  from  giving  pain  to  others, 
who  unconsciously  imparted  good  humor  and  kindliness  to 
any  circle  in  which  they  happened  to  be.  Yet  both  were 
modest  and  rather  retiring  in  company.  Neither  had  the 
slightest  taste  for  political  life.  Both  were  of  an  independent 
spirit.  "  Who  does  not  admire  the  sturdy  independence  of 
poor  Goldsmith  toiling  in  his  garret  for  nine  guineas  the  job  ? " 
says  Irving,  in  Chapter  XXI  of  his  biography,  regarding 


INTRODUCTION  XV 

the  rejection  by  Goldsmith  of  a  tempting  offer  to  earn 
liberal  pay  by  writing  for  the  party  of  Lord  North.  Again, 
both  were  of  generous  instincts.  To  be  sure,  Irving  was  the 
better  balanced  ;  he  knew  better  how  to  control  his  impulses. 
It  was  the  lack  of  balance  which  made  glaring  defects  in 
Goldsmith's  character.  Yet  in  all  these  respects  the  authors 
had  similar  tendencies  in  character. 

In  external  circumstances,  the  superficial  points  of  dif- 
ference appear  more  striking  than  those  of  resemblance. 
Goldsmith  and  Irving,  for  example,  both  traveled  widely 
on  the  Continent,  but  there  was  a  vast  difference  in  the  cir- 
cumstances of  their  travels.  Goldsmith  journeyed  through 
many  cities  and  towns  on  foot  and  penniless,  gaining  his 
subsistence  by  means  of  his  songs  and  his  flute,  or  stopping 
at  universities  to  dispute  for  a  dinner  and  a  night's  lodging 
with  any  who  would  offer  themselves  as  disputants.  In  this 
manner,  according  to  his  biographers,  though  the  facts  can- 
not be  proved  by  indisputable  records,  'he  made  his  way 
first  through  Flanders  and  northern  France,  and  then  from 
Marseilles  through  part  of  southern  France  and  Piedmont 
and  some  of  the  Italian  states.  Irving,  on  the  other  hand, 
journeyed  here  and  there  on  the  Continent  in  comfortable 
circumstances  and,  at  one  period  of  his  life,  with  the  recog- 
nition everywhere  that  comes  to  a  diplomatist  in  the  service 
of  a  powerful  government.  The  contrast  between  Irving's 
journey  from  Madrid  to  Versailles  in  1843,  and  Goldsmith's 
wandering  journey  of  1755  is  remarkable.  Irving's  quiet, 
happy  journey  is  seen  from  such  extracts  as  this  from  a  let- 
ter to  one  of  his  nieces  :  "  I  must  tell  you  that  I  have  thus 
far  enjoyed  my  journey  extremely.  I  do  not  know  when 
scenery  had  a  more  vivifying  effect  on  my  feelings  than  in 
passing  from  the  dreary,  parched  wastes  of  the  Castles  to 
the  green  mountains  and  valleys  of  the  Basque  provinces. 
The  nights  were  superb,  a  full  moon  lighting  up  splendid 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

mountain  scenery  ;  the  air  bland,  and  fresh,  and  balmy, 
instead  of  the  parching  airs  of  Madrid.  The  first  sight  of 
the  sea,  too,  and  the  inhaling  of  the  sea-breeze,  brought  a 
home  feeling  that  was  quite  reviving.  You  cannot  imagine 
how  beautiful  France  looks  to  me,  with  her  orchards  and 
vineyards,  and  groves,  and  green  meadows,  after  naked, 
sterile  Spain.  I  feel  confident  I  shall  return  from  this 
excursion  with  a  stock  of  health  and  good  spirits  to  carry 
me  through  the  winter."  Of  similar  tone  is  this  extract 
three  months  later,  on  his  return  to  Madrid:  "I  arrived  in 
Madrid  about  ten  days  since,  after  a  somewhat  rapid  journey; 
but  I  had  the  mail  carriage  to  myself,  and  was  enabled  to  make 
myself  comfortable"  And  this  :  "  I  was  cordially  welcomed 
back  by  my  brother  diplomatists,  and  really  had  a  home  feel- 
ing on  finding  myself  once  more  among  them."  Contrast 
these  with  Goldsmith's  account  of  his  journey  of  1755  seen 
in  the  passage  from  The  Traveller,  quoted  at  the  end  of 
Chapter  XV  of  Irving's  Oliver  Goldsmith,  and  in  the  various 
passages  of  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  which  Irving  regards  as 
autobiographical,  though  William  Black,  in  the  English  Men 
of  Letters,  Goldsmith  (page  17),  remarks  that  the  adventures 
described  in  Chapter  XX  of  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  cannot 
be  assumed  without  question  to  be  drawn  from  Goldsmith's 
own  life.  On  the  whole,  with  respect  to  external  conditions, 
as  seen  in  travel  abroad,  Irving  would  hardly  be  expected  to 
comprehend  Goldsmith. 

There  is,  nevertheless,  a  basis  for  sympathy  even  in  the 
matter  of  their  travels.  The  mere  fact  of  Irving's  having 
gained  the  wider  knowledge  of  life  which  is  secured  best  by 
extensive  travel  would  prevent  him  from  taking  a  purely 
insular  and  prejudiced  view  of  Goldsmith.  His  residence 
also  for  a  considerable  time  in  England  and  his  familiarity 
there  with  the  haunts  of  Goldsmith  would  help  to  let  him 
into  the  secrets  of  Goldsmith's  life. 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

In  another  respect  the  two  men  were  entirely  similar  in 
the  externals  of  life.  Neither  married.  Irving  sorrowed 
deeply  over  the  death  of  her  whom  he  loved  when  he  was 
a  young  man,  and  always  remained  true  to  the  love  of  his 
early  manhood.  Goldsmith,  after  he  had  won  success  as 
an  author,  became  tenderly  attached  to  a  beautiful  young 
woman,  to  whom  his  devotion  was  steadfast.  This  likeness 
in  celibacy  probably  accounts  for  the  nature  of  numerous 
references  to  the  Jessamy  Bride  in  Irving's  biography  of 
Goldsmith,  and  constitutes  a  bond  of  sympathy  between  the 
two  men. 

Finally,  in  the  consideration  of  the  one  question  that 
remains  of  the  five  asked  at  the  beginning,  there  may  be 
presented  a  short  narrative  of  the  life  of  Irving  as  an 
author,  not  intended  in  any  sense  to  take  the  place  of  a 
reading  of  the  biography  by  Charles  Dudley  Warner,  or  of 
the  somewhat  discursive,  but  thoroughly  entertaining  Life 
and  Letters  of  Irving  by  Pierre  M.  Irving. 

Washington  Irving,  named  after  George  Washington,  whom 
the  patriot  father  of  Washington  Irving  greatly  admired,  was 
born  in  New  York,  April  3,  1783,  at  a  time  when  the  center 
of  population  was  near  Trinity  Church,  when  Chambers 
Street  was  at  the  edge  of  the  thickly  settled  portion  of  the 
city,  and  when  there  were  no  authors  of  distinction  in  Amer- 
ica. For  the  city  of  his  birth  he  always  had  a  warm  affec- 
tion. While  in  Paris  in  1824  he  longed  to  be  once  more  in 
New  York,  and  wrote  to  a  friend,  "  There  is  a  charm  about 
that  little  spot  of  earth,  that  beautiful  city  and  its  environs, 
that  has  a  perfect  spell  over  my  imagination.  The  bay,  the 
rivers  and  their  wild  and  woody  shores,  the  haunts  of  my 
boyhood,  both  on  land  and  water,  absolutely  have  a  witchery 
over  my  mind.  I  thank  God  for  my  having  been  born  in  so 
beautiful  a  place,  among  such  beautiful  scenery;  I  am  con- 
vinced I  owe  a  vast  deal  of  what  is  good  and  pleasant  in  my 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

nature  to  the  circumstance."  To  the  New  Yorker  it  is  a 
source  of  pride  that  Irving  in  the  later  years  of  his  life  was 
not  without  honor  in  his  native  city  —  he  refused  a  nomina- 
tion for  Mayor  —  and  that  at  the  present  time  the  general 
esteem  in  which  his  memory  is  held  has  led  to  the  erec- 
tion of  a  statue  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  spots  of  New 
York  City. 

From  1802,  when  he  first  began  to  write,  until  1818,  when 
the  Irving  brothers  went  into  bankruptcy  in  London,  the 
story  of  Washington  Irving's  life  has  to  do  merely  with  the 
trifling,  unsettled  experiments  of  a  sociably  inclined  young 
bachelor.  His  first  venture  as  an  author  was  a  series  of 
letters  signed  "  Jonathan  Oldstyle,"  contributed  to  the  Morn- 
ing Chronicle.  These,  although  they  were  plainly  imitations 
of  the  Spectator  essays,  attracted  considerable  attention. 
They  consisted  of  satirical  comments  on  theaters  and  actors 
and  on  plays  that  were  presented  at  the  time  in  New  York. 
Irving  had  become  a  law  clerk  in  the  office  of  Josiah  Ogden 
Hoffman,  but  felt  little  inclination  for  serious  study  of  the 
law.  He  was  weakly  in  body.  He  liked  excursions  in 
the  Hudson  River  region  and  up  the  Mohawk  better  than 
the  reading  of  law  books.  In  spite  of  much  outdoor  life  he 
remained  in  poor  health,  so  that  his  brothers,  who  were  pros- 
pering in  business,  sent  him  abroad  in  1804.  The  captain 
of  the  sailing  vessel  on  which  he  took  passage  remarked  on 
seeing  the  young  man's  consumptive  look,  "  There  's  a  chap 
who  will  go  overboard  before  we  get  across."  Instead,  he 
grew  somewhat  better,  and  spent  nearly  two  years  in  Europe. 
He  traveled  with  much  enjoyment  through  France,  Italy,  the 
Netherlands,  and  England,  without  making  any  contribu- 
tions to  literature.  He  returned  to  New  York  in  February, 
1806. 

For  nine  years  he  remained  in  America,  and  in  an  off- 
hand, casual  mode  turned  out  some  of  his  best  writings. 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

During  these  years  he  was  a  favorite  in  the  society  of  Bal- 
timore, Washington,  Albany,  and  New  York.  He  experi- 
mented with  his  pen  as  a  means  of  diversion  rather  than  as 
a  settled  occupation  ;  he  had  not  yet  made  up  his  mind  to 
take  authorship  seriously  as  a  profession.  Among  the  works 
of  these  nine  years  are  his  writings  in  Salmagundi,  a  period- 
ical the  purpose  of  which  was  "  to  instruct  the  young,  reform 
the  old,  correct  the  town,  and  castigate  the  age."  Salma- 
gundi was  astonishingly  popular,  considering  the  careless  air 
of  superiority  which  marked  its  utterances.  In  this  period- 
ical Irving  was  associated  with  his  brother  William  and  with 
his  friend  Paulding.  In  1809  he  published  in  Philadelphia 
A  History  of  New  York,  by  Diedrich  Knickerbocker,  his 
most  original  work.  It  won  him  instant  popularity  as  an 
author.  It  had  no  value  as  an  accurate  picture  of  the  Dutch 
in  New  York,  but  it  came  in  the  course  of  time  somehow  to 
be  considered  a  faithful  delineation  of  early  Dutch  manners. 
Its  all-pervasive  humor  has  not  yet  lost  its  savor.  He  wrote 
nothing  else  of  importance  during  this  period,  but  for  the 
most  part  spent  his  time  easily  in  social  pleasures,  though 
he  gave  some  slight  attention  to  the  business  affairs  of  his 
brothers.  In  1815  he  sailed  again  for  Europe,  where  he 
remained  seventeen  years.  The  death  of  Miss  Matilda 
Hoffman,  whom  he  loved,  may  perhaps  account  for  the 
checking  of  his  literary  effort  in  the  years  that  followed  the 
publication  of  the  History  of  New  York. 

After  his  arrival  in  England,  he  struggled  during  the  next 
two  or 'three  years  with  business  matters,  mainly  in  London, 
doing  his  best  to  assist  his  invalid  brother,  Peter,  in  the 
reverses  which  overtook  the  commercial  house  in  which  the 
brothers  were  partners.  The  time  passed  drearily.  "  His 
letters  for  two  years  are  burdened  with  harassments  in 
uncongenial  details  and  unsuccessful  struggles."  He  had 
no  more  liking  for  the  details  of  business  life  than  had 


xx  INTRODUCTION 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  who,  it  will  be  recalled,  made  his 
escape  about  twenty-five  years  later  from  his  position  in 
the  Boston  Custom  House  as  from  a  prison. 

In  August,  1818,  after  Washington  and  Peter  Irving  had 
taken  advantage  of  the  bankruptcy  law  in  London,  Wash- 
ington, at  the  age  of  thirty-five,  settled  definitely  on  litera- 
ture as  a  profession.  From  now  until  1826,  he  wrote  whenever 
he  was  strong  enough  and  was  in  the  mood,  completing  in  this 
time  several  of  his  most  characteristically  humorous  works. 
His  Sketch-Book  was  published  both  in  America  and  in  Eng- 
land. From  the  publisher,  Murray,  he  received  two  hundred 
pounds  for  the  English  copyright.  Everywhere  he  was  wel- 
comed with  honor.  To  his  joy  he  became  the  breadwinner 
of  the  Irving  brothers.  He,  who  before  had  been  merely  the 
dabbler,  was  now  recognized  by  the  family  as  the  effective 
worker.  His  travels  at  this  period  included  journeys  to  Dres- 
den and  Paris  with  somewhat  prolonged  stays.  Carlyle  says 
that  Irving  was  a  good  deal  of  a  lion  in  Paris.  His  repu- 
tation reached  everywhere.  The  Edinburgh  Review  hailed 
him  as  a  writer  of  "great  purity  and  beauty  of  diction."  All 
English  people  were  reading  his  latest  book.  In  Italy,  an 
English  lady  and  her  daughter  stopped  in  one  of  the  galler- 
ies before  a  bust  of  General  Washington.  "  Who  was  this 
Washington  ? "  asked  the  daughter.  "  Why,  the  author  of 
the  Sketch-Book,  of  course,"  answered  the  mother.  Irving's 
friends  and  acquaintances  included  most  of  the  well-known 
English  writers  of  the  early  nineteenth  century ;  Sir  Walter 
Scott  was  a  particularly  enthusiastic  admirer.  After  the 
Sketch-Book  came,  in  1822,  Bracebridge  Hall,  which  added 
to  Irving's  English  reputation.  In  1824  there  was  published 
a  collection  of  short  sketches,  Tales  of  a  Traveller,  in  which 
some  of  Irving's  best  work  appeared;  certainly  the  "  artistic  " 
touch  which  he  himself  felt  to  be  here  is  present,  and  makes 
this  group  of  little  stories  deservedly  popular  to-day.  Still, 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

some  of  the  critics  began  to  ask  for  something  of  a  new 
style  from  Irving. 

This  the  distinguished  author,  always  sensitive  to  the 
slightest  adverse  criticism,  undertook  to  furnish  in  his  His- 
tory of  the  Life  and  Voyages  of  Christopher  Columbus,  for  the 
writing  of  which  he  qualified  himself  thoroughly  by  a  resi- 
dence at  Madrid  from  February,  1826,  to  September,  1829. 
The  publisher  Murray  paid  Irving  thirty-one  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  for  the  English  copyright  of  the  life  of  Columbus, 
which  was  published  in  February,  1828.  Other  books  dur- 
ing this  most  productive  period  were  Chronicle  of  the  Con- 
quest of  Granada  and  Voyages  of  the  Companions  of  Columbus. 
Irving  wrote  also  The  Alhambra  at  this  time,  but  it  was 
not  published  till  later.  The  volume  on  the  conquest  of 
Granada  brought  the  author  two  thousand  guineas.  The 
letters  during  this  Madrid  residence  reveal  the  customary 
delightful  social  relations  into  which  Irving  entered  wher- 
ever he  happened  to  be,  and  make  clear  how  completely 
and  with  what  zest  the  author  entered  into  the  spirit  of 
old  Spain. 

Urged  by  his  friends,  Irving  accepted  the  appointment  of 
Secretary  of  Legation  to  the  Court  of  St.  James  and  once 
more  returned  to  London.  Oxford  conferred  upon  him  the 
degree  of  D.C.L.,  but  modest  Irving  never  made  use  of 
this  adornment.  In  the  course  of  his  residence  in  England 
as  Secretary  of  Legation,  he  appears  to  have  taken  more 
interest  in  politics  than  ever  before;  he  wanted  to  know 
the  latest  news  regarding  political  events  in  all  countries 
and  watched  the  newspapers  eagerly  for  the  latest  develop- 
ments. When  the  Reform  Bill  was  up  for  consideration  in 
Parliament  he  earnestly  hoped  it  would  pass.  Two  literary 
incidents  shortly  before  his  return  to  America  were  a  second 
visit  to  Stratford  and  a  last  talk  with  Sir  Walter  Scott,  who 
said  to  him,  "  The  times  are  changed,  my  good  fellow,  since 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

we  went  over  the  Eildon  Hills  together.  It  is  all  nonsense 
to  tell  a  man  that  his  mind  is  not  affected  when  his  body  is 
in  this  state."  It  was  not  long  before  the  valiant  struggle  of 
Scott  against  disease  had  ended.  Irving,  however,  returned 
to  America  before  the  death  of  his  generous  admirer  and 
friend. 

In  May,  1832,  Irving  was  royally  welcomed  to  New  York. 
Public  dinners  were  given  in  his  honor;  authors,  business 
men,  and  men  prominent  in  political  life  vied  with  one  another 
in  paying  tribute  to  the  most  distinguished  American  author 
of  the  day,  who  had  been  absent  from  his  native  country 
seventeen  years,  during  which  he  had  won  international 
reputation.  Irving's  mind  had  been  for  some  time  set  upon 
a  return  to  New  York.  He  longed  for  a  home  in  which  he 
could  gather  his  brothers  and  their  children  in  domestic 
comfort  and  happiness.  Soon  he  chose  the  "  Sunnyside  " 
farm  which  is  now  the  goal  for  literary  pilgrimages.  At 
Sunnyside  he  brought  together  the  Irving  family,  and  Sunny- 
side  became,  in  the  words  of  Charles  Dudley  Warner,  "  the 
dearest  spot  on  earth  to  him;  it  was  his  residence,  from 
which  he  tore  himself  with  reluctance,  and  to  which  he 
returned  with  eager  longing ;  and  here,  surrounded  by  rela- 
tives whom  he  loved,  he  passed  nearly  all  the  remainder 
of  his  years,  in  as  happy  conditions,  I  think,  as  a  bachelor 
ever  enjoyed."  He  took  the  greatest  pleasure  in  enlarg- 
ing the  buildings,  in  improving  the  grounds,  in  making  the 
house  and  the  surroundings  more  and  more  comfortable 
and  beautiful.  In  fact,  because  he  spent  so  much  money 
in  this  agreeable  work  and  because  he  never  seems  to  have 
known  in  just  what  enterprises  it  was  well  to  invest  his 
earnings,  he  had  to  devote  himself  to  writing  all  the  rest  of 
his  life. 

Among  the  works  that  brought  him  substantial  sums 
after  his  return  to  America  were  Tour  on  the  Prairies,  the 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

outcome  of  an  extended  journey  as  far  west  as  Arkansas, 
Recollections  of  Abbotsford  and  Newstead  Abbey,  Legends  of  the 
Conquest  of  Spain,  Astoria,  Oliver  Goldsmith,  and  Mahomet 
anJ  his  Successors.  It  will  be  noticed  that,  although  these 
are  noteworthy  volumes,  there  is  no  work  here  by  which 
Irving  is  popularly  known.  The  time  of  his  most  distinc- 
tive productiveness  was  nearly  over;  there  remained  only 
one  notable  book  to  complete,  his  Life  of  Washington. 
This  was  long  delayed. 

In  accordance  with  his  ingrained  aversion  to  party  honors, 
he  had  rejected  an  offer  of  the  secretaryship  of  the  Navy 
under  President  Van  Buren,  but  permitted  himself  to  be 
appointed,  in  1842,  minister  to  Spain.  This  honor  he  accepted 
as  a  recognition  by  his  countrymen  of  his  contributions  to 
the  history  of  Spain.  The  nomination  was  made  at  the 
suggestion  of  Daniel  Webster,  was  heartily  supported  by 
Henry  Clay,  and  was  confirmed  by  the  votes  of  both  parties. 
His  residence  abroad  at  this  time  lasted  till  1846,  when  he 
returned  for  good.  His  services  as  a  diplomatist  in  a  quiet 
way  were  most  effective. 

Little  needs  to  be  said  regarding  the  last  happy  years  at 
Sunnyside.  If  the  student  is  wont  to  feel  from  reading  the 
lives  of  many  English  authors  that  the  lot  of  a  writer  —  as 
in  the  cases  of  Goldsmith,  Johnson,  Burns,  and  even  Scott 
—  is  at  best  but  a  hard  struggle,  ended  with  ease  and  com- 
fort far  in  the  distance,  certainly  it  is  a  refreshing  contrast 
to  learn  of  the  happy  domestic  tranquillity  of  Irving's  last 
years  at  Sunnyside.  He  was  admired  by  his  fellow-citizens, 
adored  by  his  kin.  His  strength  was  failing,  yet  he  kept 
writing,  and  he  had  the  triumphant  pleasure  of  seeing  the 
Life  of  Washington  well  received.  He  died  at  Sunnyside, 
November  28,  1859,  in  the  seventy-seventh  year  of  a  happy, 
perhaps  not  virile,  but  unquestionably  productive  and  hon- 
orable life. 


XXIV 


INTRODUCTION 


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The  Vicar  of  Wakcfield. 
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XXVI 


INTRODUCTION 


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9.  Parkman,  The  Oregon  Trail. 
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INTRODUCTION  xxix 

III.     NOTE    CONCERNING   THE    TOPICS    AND 
QUESTIONS 

The  topics  and  questions  in  this  edition  are  intended  primarily  to 
furnish  a  basis  for  lively  and  entertaining  discussions  in  class.  Very 
likely  not  every  pupil  will  be  able  to  answer  every  question  or  discuss 
every  topic.  Yet  it  is  thought  that  by  topics  such  as  these  all  the  pupils 
will  gain  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  contents  of  Irving's  Oliver  Gold- 
smith, and  that  at  the  same  time  they  will  have  pleasure  from  the  study. 
There  is  no  reason  why  oral  and  written  composition  based  on  a  charm- 
ing piece  of  literature  like  the  Oliver  Goldsmith  should  not  be  entered 
upon  by  the  preparatory-school  student  with  enthusiasm,  and  continued 
throughout  with  cumulative  zeal.  Though  the  material  offered  for  the 
study  will  be  found  most  satisfactory  for  class  use  where  one  pupil  will 
be  familiar  with  the  subject-matter  of  one  topic,  another  pupil  with  that 
of  another  topic,  the  questions  and  topics  are  such  that  a  student  might 
read  the  book  by  himself  and  find  sufficient  direction  for  a  thorough  and 
enjoyable  reading. 

In  the  study  of  these  topics  and  questions,  it  is  hoped  that  the  pupil 
will  have  access  to  at  least  the  following  books :  —  Goldsmith's  com- 
plete works ;  H.  A.  Dobson's  Life  of  Goldsmith  ;  Boswell's  Life  of  John- 
son ;  Histories  of  English  and  American  Literature  ;  Encyclopaedia  or 
Century  Dictionary  of  Names  ;  a  biographical  dictionary,  as  for  example 
Lippincott's ;  The  Life  and  Letters  of  Irving,  by  Pierre  M.  Irving;  and 
Irving's  complete  works.  If,  in  addition,  the  student  can  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  consulting  Irving's  principal  sources,  he  will  count  himself  fortu- 
nate. These  sources  are  The  Life  of  Oliver  Goldsmith,  by  James  Prior, 
in  two  volumes  (London,  John  Murray,  1837);  and  The  Life  and  Adven- 
tures of  Oliver  Goldsmith,  by  John  Forster,  in  four  books  (London, 
Bradbury  and  Evans,  1848).  Unfortunately  not  many  libraries  contain 
these  interesting  old  books,  though  later  editions  are  sometimes  available. 


OLIVER    GOLDSMITH 

A    BIOGRAPHY 

BY    WASHINGTON    IRVING 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 

In  the  course  of  a  revised  edition  of  my  works  I  have 
come  to  a  biographical  sketch  of  Goldsmith,  published 
several  years  since.  It  was  written  hastily,  as  introductory 
to  a  selection  from  his  writings ;  and,  though  the  facts  con- 
tained in  it  were  collected  from  various  sources,  I  was  chiefly 
indebted  for  them  to  the  voluminous  work  of  Mr.  James  Prior, 
who  had  collected  and  collated  the  most  minute  particulars 
of  the  poet's  history  with  unwearied  research  and  scrupulous 
fidelity ;  but  had  rendered  them,  as  I  thought,  in  a  form  too 
cumbrous  and  overlaid  with  details  and  disquisitions,  and 
matters  uninteresting  to  the  general  reader. 

When  I  was  about  of  late  to  revise  my  biographical  sketch, 
preparatory  to  republication,  a  volume  was  put  into  my 
hands,  recently  given  to  the  public  by  Mr.  John  Forster,  of 
the  Inner  Temple,  who,  likewise  availing  himself  of  the  labors 
of  the  indefatigable  Prior,  and  of  a  few  new  lights  since 
evolved,  has  produced  a  biography  of  the  poet,  executed 
with  a  spirit,  a  feeling,  a  grace,  and  an  eloquence,  that  leave 
nothing  to  be  desired.  Indeed  it  would  have  been  presump- 
tion in  me  to  undertake  the  subject  after  it  had  been  thus 
felicitously  treated,  did  I  not  stand  committed  by  my  pre- 
vious sketch.  That  sketch  now  appeared  too  meagre  and 
insufficient  to  satisfy  public  demand;  yet  it  had  to  take  its 
place  in  the  revised  series  of  my  works  unless  something 
more  satisfactory  could  be  substituted.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances I  have  again  taken  up  the  subject,  and  gone  into 
it  with  more  fulness  than  formerly,  omitting  none  of  the 
facts  which  I  considered  illustrative  of  the  life  and  character 

3 


4  AUTHOR'S    PREFACE 

of  the  poet,  and  giving  them  in  as  graphic  a  style  as  I 
could  command.  Still  the  hurried  manner  in  which  I  have 
had  to  do  this  amidst  the  pressure  of  other  claims  on  my 
attention,  and  with  the  press  dogging  at  my  heels,  has  pre- 
vented me  from  giving  some  parts  of  the  subject  the  thor- 
ough handling  I  could  have  wished.  Those  who  would  like 
to  see  it  treated  still  more  at  large,  with  the  addition  of 
critical  disquisitions  and  the  advantage  of  collateral  facts, 
would  do  well  to  refer  themselves  to  Mr.  Prior's  circum- 
stantial volumes,  or  to  the  elegant  and  discursive  pages  of 
Mr.  Forster. 

For  my  own  part,  I  can  only  regret  my  shortcomings  in 
what  to  me  is  a  labor  of  love  ;  for  it  is  a  tribute  of  gratitude 
to  the  memory  of  an  author  whose  writings  were  the  delight 
of  my  childhood,  and  have  been  a  source  of  enjoyment 
to  me  throughout  life ;  and  to  whom,  of  all  others,  I  may 
address  the  beautiful  apostrophe  of  Dante  to  Virgil, — 

Tu  se'  lo  mio  maestro,  e  '1  mio  autore  : 
Tu  se'  solo  colui,  da  cu'  io  tolsi 
Lo  bello  stile,  che  m'  ha  fatto  onore. 

W.  I. 

SUNNYSIDE,  August  I,   1849. 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 


CHAPTER   I 

Birth  and  Parentage  —  Characteristics  of  the  Goldsmith  Race  —  Poetical  Birth- 
place —  Goblin  House  —  Scenes  of  Boyhood  —  Lissoy  —  Picture  of  a  Coun- 
try Parson  —  Goldsmith's  Schoolmistress —  Byrne,  the  Village  Schoolmaster 
—  Goldsmith's  Hornpipe  and  Epigram  —  Uncle  Contarine  —  School  Studies 
and  School  Sports —  Mistakes  of  a  Night. 

There  are  few  writers  for  whom  the  reader  feels  such 
personal  kindness  as  for  Oliver  Goldsmith,  for  few  have  so 
eminently  possessed  the  magic  gift  of  identifying  themselves 
with  their  writings.  We  read  his  character  in  every  page, 
and  grow  into  familiar  intimacy  with  him  as  we  read.  The  $ 
artless  benevolence  that  beams  throughout  his  works ;  the 
whimsical,  yet  amiable  views  of  human  life  and  human 
nature ;  the  unforced  humor,  blending  so  happily  with  good 
feeling  and  good  sense,  and  singularly  dashed  at  times  with 
a  pleasing  melancholy ;  even  the  very  nature  of  his  mellow,  10 
and  flowing,  and  softly-tinted  style,  —  all  seem  to  bespeak 
his  moral  as  well  as  his  intellectual  qualities,  and  make  us 
love  the  man  at  the  same  time  that  we  admire  the  author. 
While  the  productions  of  writers  of  loftier  pretension  and 
more  sounding  names  are  suffered  to  moulder  on  our  shelves,  15 
those  of  Goldsmith  are  cherished  and  laid  in  our  bosoms. 
We  do  not  quote  them  with  ostentation,  but  they  mingle 
with  our  minds,  sweeten  our  tempers,  and  harmonize  our 
thoughts ;  they  put  us  in  good-humor  with  ourselves  and 
with  the  world,  and  in  so  doing  they  make  us  happier  and  20 
better  men. 

5 


6  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

An  acquaintance  with  the  private  biography  of  Goldsmith 
lets  us  into  the  secret  of  his  gifted  pages.  We  there  dis- 
cover them  to  be  little  more  than  transcripts  of  his  own 
heart  and  picturings  of  his  fortunes.  There  he  shows  him- 
5  self  the  same  kind,  artless,  good-humored,  excursive,  sensible, 
whimsical,  intelligent  being  that  he  appears  in  his  writings. 
Scarcely  an  adventure  or  character  is  given  in  his  works 
that  may  not  be  traced  to  his  own  parti-colored  story. 
Many  of  his  most  ludicrous  scenes  and  ridiculous  incidents 

10  have  been  drawn  from  his  own  blunders  and  mischances, 
and  he  seems  really  to  have  been  buffeted  into  almost  every 
maxim  imparted  by  him  for  the  instruction  of  his  reader. 

Oliver  Goldsmith  was  born  on  the  loth  of  November, 
1728,  at  the  hamlet  of  Pallas,  or  Pallasmore,  county  of  Long- 

15  ford,  in  Ireland.  He  sprang  from  a  respectable,  but  by  no 
means  a  thrifty  stock.  Some  families  seem  to  inherit  kind- 
liness and  incompetency,  and  to  hand  down  virtue  and  pov- 
erty from  generation  to  generation.  Such  was  the  case 
with  the  Goldsmiths.  "They  were  always,"  according  to 

20  their  own  accounts,  "  a  strange  family ;  they  rarely  acted 
like  other  people  ;  their  hearts  were  in  the  right  place,  but 
their  heads  seemed  to  be  doing  anything  but  what  they 
ought."  —  "They  were  remarkable,"  says  another  statement, 
"  for  their  worth,  but  of  no  cleverness  in  the  ways  of  the 

25  world."  Oliver  Goldsmith  will  be  found  faithfully  to  inherit 
the  virtues  and  weaknesses  of  his  race. 

His  father,  the  Rev.  Charles  Goldsmith,  with  hereditary 
improvidence,  married  when  very  young  and  very  poor,  and 
starved  along  for  several  years  on  a  small  country  curacy 

30  and  the  assistance  of  his  wife's  friends.  His  whole  income, 
eked  out  by  the  produce  of  some  fields  which  he  farmed,  and 
of  some  occasional  duties  performed  for  his  wife's  uncle,  the 
rector  of  an  adjoining  parish,  did  not  exceed  forty  pounds. 

"  And  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year." 


POETICAL   BIRTHPLACE  7 

He  inhabited  an  old,  half  rustic  mansion,  that  stood  on  a 
rising  ground  in  a  rough,  lonely  part  of  the  country,  over- 
looking a  low  tract  occasionally  flooded  by  the  river  Inny. 
In  this  house  Goldsmith  was  born,  and  it  was  a  birth- 
place worthy  of  a  poet ;  for,  by  all  accounts,  it  was  haunted  5 
ground.  A  tradition  handed  down  among  the  neighboring 
peasantry  states  that,  in  after-years,  the  house,  remaining  for 
some  time  untenanted,  went  to  decay,  the  roof  fell  in,  and 
it  became  so  lonely  and  forlorn  as  to  be  a  resort  for  the 
"  good  people  "  or  fairies,  who  in  Ireland  are  supposed  to  10 
delight  in  old,  crazy,  deserted  mansions  for  their  midnight 
revels.  All  attempts  to  repair  it  were  in  vain;  the  fairies 
battled  stoutly  to  maintain  possession.  A  huge  misshapen 
hobgoblin  used  to  bestride  the  house  every  evening  with  an 
immense  pair  of  jackboots,  which,  in  his  efforts  at  hard  rid-  15 
ing,  he  would  thrust  through  the  roof,  kicking  to  pieces  all 
the  work  of  the  preceding  day.  The  house  was  therefore 
left  to  its  fate,  and  went  to  ruin. 

Such  is  the  popular  tradition  about  Goldsmith's  birthplace. 
About  two  years  after  his  birth  a  change  came  over  the  cir-  20 
cumstances  of  his  father.     By  the  death  of  his  wife's  uncle 
he  succeeded  to  the  rectory  of  Kilkenny  West ;  and,  aban- 
doning the  old  goblin  mansion,  he  removed  to  Lissoy,  in 
the   county  of  Westmeath,  where   he    occupied   a  farm   of 
seventy  acres,  situated    on  the    skirts  of    that  pretty  little  25 
village. 

This  was  the  scene  of  Goldsmith's  boyhood,  the  little 
world  whence  he  drew  many  of  those  pictures,  rural  and 
domestic,  whimsical  and  touching,  which  abound  throughout 
his  works,  and  which  appeal  so  eloquently  both  to  the  fancy  30 
and  the  heart.  Lissoy  is  confidently  cited  as  the  original 
of  his  "Auburn"  in  the  "Deserted  Village";  his  father's 
establishment,  a  mixture  of  farm  and  parsonage,  furnished 
hints,  it  is  said,  for  the  rural  economy  of  the  "  Vicar  of 


8  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

Wakefield ";  and  his  father  himself,  with  his  learned  sim- 
plicity, his  guileless  wisdom,  his  amiable  piety,  and  utter 
ignorance  of  the  world,  has  been  exquisitely  portrayed  in 
the  worthy  Dr.  Primrose.  Let  us  pause  for  a  moment,  and 
5  draw  from  Goldsmith's  writings  one  or  two  of  those  pic- 
tures which,  under  feigned  names,  represent  his  father  and 
his  family,  and  the  happy  fireside  of  his  childish  days. 

"  My  father,"  says  the  "  Man   in  Black,"  who,  in  some 
respects,  is  a  counterpart  of  Goldsmith  himself,  —  "my  father, 

10  the  younger  son  of  a  good  family,  was  possessed  of  a  small 
living  in  the  church.  His  education  was  above  his  for- 
tune, and  his  generosity  greater  than  his  education.  Poor 
as  he  was,  he  had  his  flatterers  poorer  than,  himself :  for 
every  dinner  he  gave  them,  they  returned  him  an  equivalent 

15  in  praise;  and  this  was  all  he  wanted.  The  same  ambition 
that  actuates  a  monarch  at  the  head  of  his  army,  influenced 
my  father  at  the  head  of  his  table  ;  he  told  the  story  of  the 
ivy-tree,  and  that  was  laughed  at;  he  repeated  the  jest  of 
the  two  scholars  and  one  pair  of  breeches,  and  the  company 

20  laughed  at  that ;  but  the  story  of  Taffy  in  the  sedan-chair 
was  sure  to  set  the  table  in  a  roar.  Thus  his  pleasure 
increased  in  proportion  to  the  pleasure  he  gave ;  he  loved 
all  the  world,  and  he  fancied  all  the  world  loved  him. 

"  As  his  fortune  was  but  small,  he  lived  up  to  the  very 

25  extent  of  it :  he  had  no  intention  of  leaving  his  children 
money,  for  that  was  dross ;  he  resolved  they  should  have 
learning,  for  learning,  he  used  to  observe,  was  better  than 
silver  or  gold.  For  this  purpose  he  undertook  to  instruct 
us  himself,  and  took  as  much  care  to  form  our  morals  as  to 

30  improve  our  understanding.  We  were  told  that  universal 
benevolence  was  what  first  cemented  society:  we  were  taught 
to  consider  all  the  wants  of  mankind  as  our  own  ;  to  regard 
the  human  face  divine  with  affection  and  esteem  ;  he  wound 
us  up  to  be  mere  machines  of  pity,  and  rendered  us  incapable 


HIS    FATHER  9 

of  withstanding  the  slightest  impulse  made  either  by  real  or 
fictitious  distress.  In  a  word,  we  were  perfectly  instructed 
in  the  art  of  giving  away  thousands  before  we  were  taught 
the  necessary  qualifications  of  getting  a  farthing." 

In  the  "  Deserted  Village  "  we  have  another  picture  of    5 
his  father  and  his  father's  fireside  :  — 

"  His  house  was  known  to  all  the  vagrant  train, 
He  chid  their  wanderings,  but  relieved  their  pain ; 
The  long-remembered  beggar  was  his  guest, 
Whose  beard,  descending,  swept  his  aged  breast ;  IO 

The  ruin'd  spendthrift,  now  no  longer  proud, 
Claim'd  kindred  there,  and  had  his  claims  allow'd ; 
The  broken  soldier,  kindly  bade  to  stay, 
Sat  by  his  fire,  and  talk'd  the  night  away ; 

Wept  o'er  his  wounds,  or  tales  of  sorrow  done,  15 

Shoulder'd  his  crutch,  and  show'd  how  fields  were  won. 
Pleased  with  his  guests,  the  good  man  learned  to  glow, 
And  quite  forgot  their  vices  in  their  woe ; 
Careless  their  merits  or  their  faults  to  scan, 
His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began."  20 

The  family  of  the  worthy  pastor  consisted  of  five  sons  and 
three  daughters.  Henry,  the  eldest,  was  the  good  man's 
pride  and  hope,  and  he  tasked  his  slender  means  to  the 
utmost  in  educating  him  for  a  learned  and  distinguished 
career.  Oliver  was  the  second  son,  and  seven  years  younger  25 
than  Henry,  who  was  the  guide  and  protector  of  his  child- 
hood, and  to  whom  he  was  most  tenderly  attached  through- 
out life. 

Oliver's  education  began  when  he  was  about  three  years 
old ;  that  is  to  say,  he  was  gathered  under  the  wings  of  one  30 
of  those  good  old  motherly  dames,  found  in  every  village, 
who  cluck  together  the  whole  callow  brood  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, to  teach  them  their  letters  and  keep  them  out  of  harm's 
way.  Mistress  Elizabeth  Delap,  for  that  was  her  name, 
flourished  in  this  capacity  for  upward  of  fifty  years,  and  it  35 


10  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

was  the  pride  and  boast  of  her  declining  days,  when  nearly 
ninety  years  of  age,  that  she  was  the  first  that  had  put 
a  book  (doubtless  a  hornbook)  into  Goldsmith's  hands. 
Apparently  he  did  not  much  profit  by  it,  for  she  confessed 
5  he  was  one  of  the  dullest  boys  she  had  ever  dealt  with, 
insomuch  that  she  had  sometimes  doubted  whether  it  was 
possible  to  make  anything  of  him  :  a  common  case  with 
imaginative  children,  who  are  apt  to  be  beguiled  from  the 
dry  abstractions  of  elementary  study  by  the  picturings  of 

10  the  fancy. 

At  six  years  of  age  he  passed  into  the  hands  of  the 
village  schoolmaster,  one  Thomas  (or,  as  he  was  commonly 
and  irreverently  named,  Paddy)  Byrne,  a  capital  tutor  for  a 
poet.  He  had  been  educated  for  a  pedagogue,  but  had 

15  enlisted  in  the  army,  served  abroad  during  the  wars  of  Queen 
Anne's  time,  and  risen  to  the  rank  of  quartermaster  of  a 
regiment  in  Spain.  At  the  return  of  peace,  having  no  longer 
exercise  for  the  sword,  he  resumed  the  ferule,  and  drilled 
the  urchin  populace  of  Lissoy.  Goldsmith  is  supposed  to 

20  have  had  him  and  his  school  in  view  in  the  following  sketch 
in  his  "  Deserted  Village  "  :  — 

"  Beside  yon  straggling  fence  that  skirts  the  way, 

With  blossom'd  furze  unprofitably  gay, 

There,  in  his  noisy  mansion,  skill'd  to  rule, 
25  The  village  master  taught  his  little  school ; 

A  man  severe  he  was,  and  stern  to  view, 

I  knew  him  well,  and  every  truant  knew : 

\Vell  had  the  boding  tremblers  learn'd  to  trace 

The  day's  disasters  in  his  morning  face ; 
30  Full  well  they  laugh'd  with  counterfeited  glee 

At  all  his  jokes,  for  many  a  joke  had  he ; 

Full  well  the  busy  whisper  circling  round, 

Convey'd  the  dismal  tidings  when  he  frown'd  : 

Yet  he  was  kind,  or,  if  severe  in  aught, 
35  The  love  he  bore  to  learning  was  in  fault ; 

The  village  all  declared  how  much  he  knew, 


FIRST    ATTEMPTS   AT   VERSE  II 

T  was  certain  he  could  write,  and  cipher  too ; 

Lands  he  could  measure,  terms  and  tides  presage, 

And  e'en  the  story  ran  that  he  could  gauge : 

In  arguing,  too,  the  parson  own'd  his  skill, 

For,  e'en  though  vanquished,  he  could  argue  still ;  5 

While  words  of  learned  length  and  thund'ring  sound 

Amazed  the  gazing  rustics,  ranged  around,  — 

And  still  they  gazed,  and  still  the  wonder  grew, 

That  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew." 

There   are   certain   whimsical   traits  in   the  character  of  10 
Byrne,  not  given  in  the  foregoing  sketch.     He  was  fond  of 
talking  of  his  vagabond  wanderings  in  foreign  lands,  and 
had  brought  with  him  from  the  wars  a  world  of  campaigning 
stories,  of  which  he  was  generally  the  hero,  and  which  he 
would  deal  forth  to  his  wondering  scholars  when  he  ought  15 
to  have  been  teaching  them  their  lessons.     These  travellers' 
tales  had  a  powerful  effect  upon  the  vivid  imagination  of 
Goldsmith,   and   awakened    an   unconquerable   passion  for 
wandering  and  seeking  adventure. 

Byrne  was,  moreover,  of  a  romantic  vein,  and  exceedingly  20 
superstitious.     He  was   deeply  versed   in   the  fairy  super- 
stitions which   abound  in    Ireland,  all  which  he  professed 
implicitly  to  believe.     Under   his   tuition    Goldsmith   soon 
became  almost  as  great  a  proficient  in  fairy  lore.     From  this 
branch  of  good-for-nothing   knowledge,  his  studies,  by  an  25 
easy  transition,  extended  to  the  histories  of  robbers,  pirates, 
smugglers,  and  the  whole  race  of  Irish  rogues  and  rapparees. 
Everything,  in  short,  that  savored  of  romance,  fable,  and 
adventure,  was  congenial  to  his  poetic  mind,  and  took  instant 
root  there;  but  the  slow  plants  of  useful  knowledge  were  30 
apt  to  be  overrun,  if  not  choked,  by  the  weeds  of  his  quick 
imagination. 

Another  trait  of  his  motley  preceptor,  Byrne,  was  a  dispo- 
sition to  dabble  in  poetry,  and  this  likewise  was  caught  by 
his  pupil.  Before  he  was  eight  years  old,  Goldsmith  had  35 


12  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

contracted  a  habit  of  scribbling  verses  on  small  scraps  of 
paper,  which,  in  a  little  while,  he  would  throw  into  the  fire. 
A  few  of  these  sibylline  leaves,  however,  were  rescued  from 
the  flames  and  conveyed  to  his  mother.  The  good  woman 
5  read  them  with  a  mother's  delight,  and  saw  at  once  that  her 
son  was  a  genius  and  a  poet.  From  that  time  she  beset  her 
husband  with  solicitations  to  give  the  boy  an  education  suit- 
able to  his  talents.  The  worthy  man  was  already  straitened 
by  the  costs  of  instruction  of  his  eldest  son  Henry,  and  had 

10  intended  to  bring  his  second  son  up  to  a  trade ;  but  the 
mother  would  listen  to  no  such  thing ;  as  usual,  her  influence 
prevailed,  and  Oliver,  instead  of  being  instructed  in  some 
humble,  but  cheerful  and  gainful  handicraft,  was  devoted  to 
poverty  and  the  Muse. 

15  A  severe  attack  of  the  small-pox  caused  him  to  be  taken 
from  under  the  care  of  his  story-telling  preceptor,  Byrne. 
His  malady  had  nearly  proved  fatal,  and  his  face  remained 
pitted  through  life.  On  his  recovery  he  was  placed  under 
the  charge  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Griffin,  schoolmaster  of  Elphin, 

20  in  Roscommon,  and  became  an  inmate  in  the  house  of 
his  uncle,  John  Goldsmith,  Esq.,  of  Ballyoughter,  in  'that 
vicinity.  He  now  entered  upon  studies  of  a  higher  order, 
but  without  making  any  uncommon  progress.  Still  a  care- 
less, easy  facility  of  disposition,  an  amusing  eccentricity  of 

25  manners,  and  a  vein  of  quiet  and  peculiar  humor,  rendered 
him  a  general  favorite,  and  a  trifling  incident  soon  induced 
his  uncle's  family  to  concur  in  his  mother's  opinion  of  his 
genius. 

A  number  of  young  folks  had  assembled  at  his  uncle's 

30  to  dance.  One  of  the  company,  named  Cummings,  played 
on  the  violin.  In  the  course  of  the  evening  Oliver  under- 
took a  hornpipe.  His  short  and  clumsy  figure,  and  his  face 
pitted  and  discolored  with  the  small-pox,  rendered  him  a 
ludicrous  figure  in  the  eyes  of  the  musician,  who  made 


TRANSFERRED    TO    NEW   SCHOOLS  13 

merry  at  his  expense,  dubbing  him  his  little  /Esop.  Gold- 
smith was  nettled  by  the  jest,  and,  stopping  short  in  the 
hornpipe,  exclaimed,  — 

"  Our  herald  hath  proclaimed  this  saying, 
See  ALsop  dancing,  and  his  monkey  playing."  5 

The  repartee  was  thought  wonderful  for  a  boy  of  nine 
years  old,  and  Oliver  became  forthwith  the  wit  and  the  bright 
genius  of  the  family.  It  was  thought  a  pity  he  should  not 
receive  the  same  advantages  with  his  elder  brother  Henry, 
who  had  been  sent  to  the  University ;  and,  as  his  father's  10 
circumstances  would  not  afford  it,  several  of  his  relatives, 
spurred  on  by  the  representations  of  his  mother,  agreed  to 
contribute  towards  the  expense.  The  greater  part,  how- 
ever, was  borne  by  his  uncle,  the  Rev.  Thomas  Contarine. 
This  worthy  man  had  been  the  college  companion  of  Bishop  15 
Berkeley,  and  was  possessed  of  moderate  means,  holding 
the  living  of  Carrick-on-Shannon.  He  had  married  the  sister 
of  Goldsmith's  father,  but  was  now  a  widower,  with  an  only 
child,  a  daughter,  named  Jane.  Contarine  was  a  kind-hearted 
man,  with  a  generosity  beyond  his  means.  He  took  Gold-  20 
smith  into  favor  from  his  infancy;  his  house  was  open  to 
him  during  the  holidays  ;  his  daughter  Jane,  two  years  older 
than  the  poet,  was  his  early  playmate ;  and  uncle  Contarine 
continued  to  the  last  one  of  his  most  active,  unwavering,  and 
generous  friends.  25 

Fitted  out  in  a  great  measure  by  this  considerate  relative, 
Oliver  was  now  transferred  to  schools  of  a  higher  order,  to 
prepare  him  for  the  University ;  first  to  one  at  Athlone,  kept 
by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Campbell,  and,  at  the  end  of  two  years,  to 
one  at  Edgeworthstown,  under  the  superintendence  of  the  30 
Rev.  Patrick  Hughes. 

Even  at  these  schools  his  proficiency  does  appear  not  to 
have  been  brilliant.     He  was  indolent  and  careless,  however, 


14  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

rather  than  dull,  and,  on  the  whole,  appears  to  have  been 
well  thought  of  by  his  teachers.  In  his  studies  he  inclined 
towards  the  Latin  poets  and  historians ;  relished  Ovid  and 
Horace,  and  delighted  in  Livy.  He  exercised  himself  with 
5  pleasure  in  reading  and  translating  Tacitus,  and  was  brought 
to  pay  attention  to  style  in  his  compositions  by  a  reproof 
from  his  brother  Henry,  to  whom  he  had  written  brief  and 
confused  letters,  and  who  told  him  in  reply,  that,  if  he  had 
but  little  to  say,  to  endeavor  to  say  that  little  well. 

10  The  career  of  his  brother  Henry  at  the  University  was 
enough  to  stimulate  him  to  exertion.  He  seemed  to  be 
realizing  all  his  father's  hopes,  and  was  winning  collegiate 
honors  that  the  good  man  considered  indicative  of  his  future 
success  in  life. 

15  In  the  meanwhile,  Oliver,  if  not  distinguished  among  his 
teachers,  was  popular  among  his  schoolmates.  He  had  a 
thoughtless  generosity  extremely  captivating  to  young  hearts: 
his  temper  was  quick  and  sensitive,  and  easily  offended ; 
but  his  anger  was  momentary,  and  it  was  impossible  for 

20  him  to  harbor  resentment.  He  was  the  leader  of  all  boy- 
ish sports  and  athletic  amusements,  especially  ball-playing, 
and  he  was  foremost  in  all  mischievous  pranks.  Many 
years  afterward,  an  old  man,  Jack  Fitzimmons,  one  of  the 
directors  of  the  sports,  and  keeper  of  the  ball-court  at  Bally- 

25  mahon,  used  to  boast  of  having  been  schoolmate  of  "  Noll 
Goldsmith,"  as  he  called  him,  and  would  dwell  with  vain- 
glory on  one  of  their  exploits,  in  robbing  the  orchard  of 
Tirlicken,  an  old  family  residence  of  Lord  Annaly.  The. 
exploit,  however,  had  nearly  involved  disastrous  conse- 

30  quences ;  for  the  crew  of  juvenile  depredators  were  cap- 
tured, like  Shakspeare  and  his  deer-stealing  colleagues ; 
and  nothing  but  the  respectability  of  Goldsmith's  connec- 
tions saved  him  from  the  punishment  that  would  have 
awaited  more  plebeian  delinquents. 


MISTAKES    OF   A   NIGHT  15 

An  amusing  incident  is  related  as  occurring  in  Gold- 
smith's last  journey  homeward  from  Edgeworthstown.  His 
father's  house  was  about  twenty  miles  distant ;  the  road  lay 
through  a  rough  country,  impassable  for  carriages.  Gold- 
smith procured  a  horse  for  the  journey,  and  a  friend  fur-  5 
nished  him  with  a  guinea  for  travelling  expenses.  He  was 
but  a  stripling  of  sixteen,  and  being  thus  suddenly  mounted 
on  horseback,  with  money  in  his  pocket,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  his  head  was  turned.  He  determined  to  play  the 
man,  and  to  spend  his  money  in  independent  traveller's  10 
style.  Accordingly,  instead  of  pushing  directly  for  home, 
he  halted  for  the  night  at  the  little  town  of  Ardagh,  and, 
accosting  the  first  person  he  met,  inquired,  with  somewhat 
of  a  consequential  air,  for  the  best  house  in  the  place. 
Unluckily,  the  person  he  had  accosted  was  one  Kelly,  a  15 
notorious  wag,  who  was  quartered  in  the  family  of  one 
Mr.  Featherstone,  a  gentleman  of  fortune.  Amused  with 
the  self-consequence  of  the  stripling,  and  willing  to  play  off 
a  practical  joke  at  his  expense,  he  directed  him  to  what  was 
literally  "the  best  house  in  the  place,"  namely,  the  family  20 
mansion  of  Mr.  Featherstone.  Goldsmith  accordingly  rode 
up  to  what  he  supposed  to  be  an  inn,  ordered  his  horse  to  be 
taken  to  the  stable,  walked  into  the  parlor,  seated  himself 
by  the  fire,  and  demanded  what  he  could  have  for  supper. 
On  ordinary  occasions  he  was  diffident  and  even  awkward  in  25 
his  manners,  but  here  he  was  "at  ease  in  his  inn,"  and  felt 
called  upon  to  show  his  manhood  and  enact  the  experienced 
traveller.  His  person  was  by  no  means  calculated  to  play 
off  his  pretensions,  for  he  was  short  and  thick,  with  a  pock- 
marked face,  and  an  air  and  carriage  by  no  means  of  a  dis-  30 
tinguished  cast.  The  owner  of  the  house,  however,  soon 
discovered  his  whimsical  mistake,  and,  being  a  man  of  humor, 
determined  to  indulge  it,  especially  as  he  accidentally  learned 
that  this  intruding  guest  was  the  son  of  an  old  acquaintance. 


16  OLIVER    GOLDSMITH 

Accordingly,  Goldsmith  was  "  fooled  to  the  top  of  his 
bent,"  and  permitted  to  have  full  sway  throughout  the 
evening.  Never  was  schoolboy  more  elated.  When  sup- 
per was  served,  he  most  condescendingly  insisted  that  the 
5  landlord,  his  wife  and  daughter  should  partake,  and  ordered 
a  bottle  of  wine  to  crown  the  repast  and  benefit  the  house. 
His  last  flourish  was  on  going  to  bed,  when  he  gave  espe- 
cial orders  to  have  a  hot  cake  at  breakfast.  His  confusion 
and  dismay,  on  discovering  the  next  morning  that  he  had 

10  been  swaggering  in  this  free  and  easy  way  in  the  house  of 
a  private  gentleman,  may  be  readily  conceived.  True  to  his 
habit  of  turning  the  events  of  his  life  to  literary  account,  we 
find  this  chapter  of  ludicrous  blunders  and  cross-purposes 
dramatized  many  years  afterward  in  his  admirable  comedy 

15  of  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  or  the  Mistakes  of  a  Night." 


TOPICS    AND    QUESTIONS 

1.  How  does  the  opening  paragraph  differ  from  the  kind  of  opening 
usually  adopted  in  school  papers  for  a  short  biographical  sketch  ? 

2.  Goldsmith's  schooling. 

3.  Mention   four   eighteenth-century    writers  of   loftier   pretensions 
than  Oliver  Goldsmith. 

4.  What  writings  of  Goldsmith  are  most  frequently  quoted  ? 

5.  How  far  may  the  inmost  details  of  a  distinguished  literary  man's 
life  be  revealed  with  propriety  ? 

6.  From  the  details  given  in  Chapter  I,  show  how  Byrne  was  a  good 
tutor  for  a  boy  inclined  to  poetry. 

7.  Explain  why  Goldsmith    was   popular   among   his    schoolmates. 
Do  the  same  characteristics  which  made  him  popular  usually  make  a 
student  popular  now  ? 


CHAPTER    II 

Improvident  Marriages  in  the  Goldsmith  Family  —  Goldsmith  at  the  Univer- 
sity—  Situation  of  a  Sizer — Tyranny  of  Wilder,  the  Tutor—  Pecuniary 
Straits—  Street- Ballads  —  College  Riot—  Gallows  Walsh —College  Prize 
—  A  Dance  interrupted. 

While  Oliver  was  making  his  way  somewhat  negligently 
through  the  schools,  his  elder  brother  Henry  was  rejoicing 
his  father's  heart  by  his  career  at  the  University.  He  soon 
distinguished  himself  at  the  examinations,  and  obtained  a 
scholarship  in  1743.  This  is  a  collegiate  distinction  which  5 
serves  as  a  stepping-stone  in  any  of  the  learned  professions, 
and  which  leads  to  advancement  in  the  University  should  the 
individual  choose  to  remain  there.  His  father  now  trusted 
that  he  would  push  forward  for  that  comfortable  provision, 
a  fellowship,  and  thence  to  higher  dignities  and  emoluments.  10 
Henry,  however,  had  the  improvidence  or  the  "  unworldli- 
ness  "  of  his  race  :  returning  to  the  country  during  the  suc- 
ceeding vacation,  he  married  for  love,  relinquished,  of  course, 
all  his  collegiate  prospects  and  advantages,  set  up  a  school 
in  his  father's  neighborhood,  and  buried  his  talents  and  15 
acquirements  for  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  a  curacy  of 
forty  pounds  a  year. 

Another  matrimonial  event  occurred  not  long  afterward 
in  the  Goldsmith  family,  to  disturb  the  equanimity  of  its 
worthy  head.  This  was  the  clandestine  marriage  of  his  20 
daughter  Catherine  with  a  young  gentleman  of  the  name  of 
Hodson,  who  had  been  confided  to  the  care  of  her  brother 
Henry  to  complete  his  studies.  As  the  youth  was  of 
wealthy  parentage,  it  was  thought  a  lucky  match  for  the 
Goldsmith  family  ;  but  the  tidings  of  the  event  stung  the  25 

«7 


1 8  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

bride's  father  to  the  soul.  Proud  of  his  integrity,  and 
jealous  of  that  good  name  which  was  his  chief  possession, 
he  saw  himself  and  his  family  subjected  to  the  degrading 
suspicion  of  having  abused  a  trust  reposed  in  them  to  pro- 
5  mote  a  mercenary  match.  In  the  first  transports  of  his 
feelings,  he  is  said  to  have  uttered  a  wish  that  his  daughter 
might  never  have  a  child  to  bring  like  shame  and  sorrow  on 
her  head.  The  hasty  wish,  so  contrary  to  the  usual  benig- 
nity of  the  man,  was  recalled  and  repented  of  almost  as 

10  soon  as  uttered ;  but  it  was  considered  baleful  in  its  effects 
by  the  superstitious  neighborhood ;  for,  though  his  daughter 
bore  three  children,  they  all  died  before  her. 

A  more  effectual  measure  was  taken  by  Mr.  Goldsmith 
to  ward  off  the  apprehended  imputation,  but  one  which  im- 

15  posed  a  heavy  burden  on  his  family.  This  was  to  furnish  a 
marriage  portion  of  four  hundred  pounds,  that  his  daughter 
might  not  be  said  to  have  entered  her  husband's  family 
empty-handed.  To  raise  the  sum  in  cash  was  impossible ; 
but  he  assigned  to  Mr.  Hodson  his  little  farm  and  the 

20  income  of  his  tithes  until  the  marriage  portion  should  be 
paid.  In  the  mean  time,  as  his  living  did  not  amount  to 
£200  per  annum,  he  had  to  practise  the  strictest  economy 
to  pay  off  gradually  this  heavy  tax  incurred  by  his  nice 
sense  of  honor. 

25  The  first  of  his  family  to  feel  the  effects  of  this  economy 
was  Oliver.  The  time  had  now  arrived  for  him  to  be  sent 
to  the  University;  and,  accordingly,  on  the  nth  June,  1745, 
when  seventeen  years  of  age,  he  entered  Trinity  College, 
Dublin  ;  but  his  father  was  no  longer  able  to  place  him  there 

30  as  a  pensioner,  as  he  had  done  his  eldest  son  Henry ;  he  was 
obliged,  therefore,  to  enter  him  as  a  sizer,  or  "  poor  scholar." 
He  was  lodged  in  one  of  the  top  rooms  adjoining  the  library 
of  the  building,  numbered  35,  where  it  is  said  his  name  may 
still  be  seen,  scratched  by  himself  upon  a  window-frame. 


INDIGNITIES   OF  A  "POOR   STUDENT"         19 

A  student  of  this  class  is  taught  and  boarded  gratuitously, 
and  has  to  pay  but  a  small  sum  for  his  room.  It  is  expected, 
in  return  for  these  advantages,  that  he  will  be  a  diligent 
student,  and  render  himself  useful  in  a  variety  of  ways.  In 
Trinity  College,  at  the  time  of  Goldsmith's  admission,  sev-  5 
eral  derogatory,  and,  indeed,  menial  offices  were  exacted  from 
the  sizer,  as  if  the  college  sought  to  indemnify  itself  for  con- 
ferring benefits  by  inflicting  indignities.  He  was  obliged 
to  sweep  part  of  the  courts  in  the  morning;  to  carry  up 
the  dishes  from  the  kitchen  to  the  fellows'  table,  and  to  10 
wait  in  the  hall  until  that  body  had  dined.  His  very  dress 
marked  the  inferiority  of  the  "  poor  student  "  to  his  happier 
classmates.  It  was  a  black  gown  of  coarse  stuff  without 
sleeves,  and  a  plain  black  cloth  cap  without  a  tassel.  We 
can  conceive  nothing  more  odious  and  ill-judged  than  these  15 
distinctions,  which  attached  the  idea  of  degradation  to  pov- 
erty, and  placed  the  indigent  youth  of  merit  below  the  worth- 
less minion  of  fortune.  They  were  calculated  to  wound  and 
irritate  the  noble  mind,  and  to  render  the  base  mind  baser. 

Indeed,  the  galling    effect   of   these    servile  tasks  upon  20 
youths  of  proud  spirits  and  quick  sensibilities  became  at 
length  too  notorious  to  be  disregarded.     About  fifty  years 
since,   on    a   Trinity   Sunday,    a    number   of  persons  were 
assembled  to  witness  the  college  ceremonies ;  and  as  a  sizer 
was  carrying  up  a  dish  of  meat  to  the  fellows'  table,  a  burly  25 
citizen  in  the  crowd  made  some  sneering  observation  on  the 
servility  of  his  office.     Stung  to  the  quick,  the  high-spirited 
youth  instantly  flung  the  dish  and  its  contents  at  the  head 
of  the  sneerer.     The  sizer  was  sharply  reprimanded  for  this 
outbreak  of  wounded   pride,  but   the   degrading   task  was  30 
from   that  day  forward  very  properly  consigned  to  menial 
hands. 

It  was  with  the  utmost  repugnance  that  Goldsmith  entered 
college  in  this  capacity.     His  shy  and  sensitive  nature  was 


20  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

affected  by  the  inferior  station  he  was  doomed  to  hold 
among  his  gay  and  opulent  fellow-students,  and  he  became, 
at  times,  moody  and  despondent.  A  recollection  of  these 
early  mortifications  induced  him,  in  after-years,  most  strongly 
5  to  dissuade  his  brother  Henry,  the  clergyman,  from  sending 
a  son  to  college  on  a  like  footing.  "  If  he  has  ambition, 
strong  passions,  and  an  exquisite  sensibility  of  contempt,  do 
not  send  him  there,  unless  you  have  no  other  trade  for  him 
except  your  own." 

10  To  add  to  his  annoyances,  the  fellow  of  the  college  who 
had  the  peculiar  control  of  his  studies,  the  Rev.  Theaker 
Wilder,  was  a  man  of  violent  and  capricious  temper,  and 
of  diametrically  opposite  tastes.  The  tutor  was  devoted  to 
the  exact  sciences ;  Goldsmith  was  for  the  classics.  Wilder 

15  endeavored  to  force  his  favorite  studies  upon  the  student 
by  harsh  means,  suggested  by  his  own  coarse  and  savage 
nature.  He  abused  him  in  presence  of  the  class  as  igno- 
rant and  stupid;  ridiculed  him  as  awkward  and  ugly,  and 
at  times  in  the  transports  of  his  temper  indulged  in  personal 

20  violence.  The  effect  was  to  aggravate  a  passive  distaste  into 
a  positive  aversion.  Goldsmith  was  loud  in  expressing  his 
contempt  for  mathematics  and  his  dislike  of  ethics  and 
logic;  and  the  prejudices  thus  imbibed  continued  through 
life.  Mathematics  he  always  pronounced  a  science  to  which 

25  the  meanest  intellects  were  competent. 

A  truer  cause  of  this  distaste  for  the  severer  studies  may 
probably  be  found  in  his  natural  indolence  and  his  love  of 
convivial  pleasures.  "  I  was  a  lover  of  mirth,  good-humor, 
and  even  sometimes  of  fun,"  said  he,  "from  my  childhood." 

30  He  sang  a  good  song,  was  a  boon  companion,  and  could  not 
resist  any  temptation  to  social  enjoyment.  He  endeavored 
to  persuade  himself  that  learning  and  dulness  went  hand  in 
hand,  and  that  genius  was  not  to  be  put  in  harness.  Even 
in  riper  years,  when  the  consciousness  of  his  own  deficiencies 


STREET-BALLADS  21 

ought  to  have  convinced  him  of  the  importance  of  early  study, 
he  speaks  slightingly  of  college  honors. 

"A  lad,"  says  he,  "  whose  passions  are  not  strong  enough 
in  youth  to  mislead  him  from  that  path  of  science  which  his 
tutors,  and  not  his  inclination,  have  chalked  out,  by  four  or  5 
five  years'  perseverance  will  probably  obtain  every  advantage 
and  hynor  his  college  can  bestow.  I  would  compare  the 
man  whose  youth  has  been  thus  passed  in  the  tranquillity 
of  dispassionate  prudence,  to  liquors  that  never  ferment, 
and,  consequently,  continue  always  muddy."  10 

The  death  of  his  worthy  father,  which  took  place  early 
in  1747,  rendered  Goldsmith's  situation  at  college  extremely 
irksome.  His  mother  was  left  with  little  more  than  the 
means  of  providing  for  the  wants  of  her  household,  and  was 
unable  to  furnish  him  any  remittances.  He  would  have  15 
been  compelled,  therefore,  to  leave  college,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  occasional  contributions  of  friends,  the  foremost 
among  whom  was  his  generous  and  warm-hearted  uncle 
Contarine.  Still  these  supplies  were  so  scanty  and  preca- 
rious, that  in  the  intervals  between  them  he  was  put  to  great  20 
straits.  He  had  two  college  associates  from  whom  he  would 
occasionally  borrow  small  sums  ;  one  was  an  early  school- 
mate, by  the  name  of  Beatty;  the  other  a  cousin,  and  the 
chosen  companion  of  his  frolics,  Robert  (or  rather  Rob) 
Bryanton,  of  Ballymulvey  House,  near  Ballymahon.  When  25 
these  casual  supplies  failed  him,  he  was  more  than  once 
obliged  to  raise  funds  for  his  immediate  wants  by  pawning 
his  books.  At  times  he  sank  into  despondency,  but  he  had 
what  he  termed  "  a  knack  at  hoping,"  which  soon  buoyed 
him  up  again.  He  began  now  to  resort  to  his  poetical  vein  30 
as  a  source  of  profit,  scribbling  street-ballads,  which  he  pri- 
vately sold  for  five  shillings  each  at  a  shop  which  dealt-  in 
such  small  wares  of  literature.  He  felt  an  author's  affection 
for  these  unowned  bantlings,  and  we  are  told  would  stroll 


22  OLIVER    (iOLDSMlTH 

privately  through  the  streets  at  night  to  hear  them  sung, 
listening  to  the  comments  and  criticisms  of  by-standers,  and 
observing  the  degree  of  applause  which  each  received. 

Edmund  Burke  was  a  fellow-student  with  Goldsmith  at  the 
5  college.  Neither  the  statesman  nor  the  poet  gave  promise 
of  their  future  celebrity,  though  Burke  certainly  surpassed 
his  contemporary  in  industry  and  application,  and  evinced 
more  disposition  for  self-improvement,  associating  himself 
with  a  number  of  his  fellow-students  in  a  debating  club,  in 

10  which  they  discussed  literary  topics,  and  exercised  them- 
selves in  composition. 

Goldsmith  may  likewise  have  belonged  to  this  associa- 
tion, but  his  propensity  was  rather  to  mingle  with  the  gay 
and  thoughtless.  On  one  occasion  we  find  him  implicated  in 

15  an  affair  that  came  nigh  producing  his  expulsion.  A  report 
was  brought  to  college  that  a  scholar  was  in  the  hands  of 
the  bailiffs.  This  was  an  insult  in  which  every  gownsman 
felt  himself  involved.  A  number  of  the  scholars  flew  to 
arms,  and  sallied  forth  to  battle,  headed  by  a  hair-brained 

20  fellow  nicknamed  Gallows  Walsh,  noted  for  his  aptness  at 
mischief  and  fondness  for  riot.  The  stronghold  of  the  bailiff 
was  carried  by  storm,  the  scholar  set  at  liberty,  and  the  delin- 
quent catchpole  borne  off  captive  to  the  college,  where,  hav- 
ing no  pump  to  put  him  under,  they  satisfied  the  demands 

25  of  collegiate  law  by  ducking  him  in  an  old  cistern. 

Flushed  with  this  signal  victory,  Gallows  Walsh  now- 
harangued  his  followers,  and  proposed  to  break  open  New- 
gate, or  the  Black  Dog,  as  the  prison  was  called,  and  effect 
a  general  jail-delivery.  He  was  answered  by  shouts  of  con- 

3°  currence,  and  away  went  the  throng  of  madcap  youngsters, 
fully  bent  upon  putting  an  end  to  the  tyranny  of  law.  They 
were  joined  by  the  mob  of  the  city,  and  made  an  attack  upon 
the  prison  with  true  Irish  precipitation  and  thoughtlessness, 
never  having  provided  themselves  with  cannon  to  batter  its 


A  DANCE    INTERRUPTED  23 

stone  walls.  A  few  shots  from  the  prison  brought  them  to 
their  senses,  and  they  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  two  of  the  towns- 
men being  killed,  and  several  wounded. 

A  severe  scrutiny  of  this  affair  took  place  at  the  University. 
Four  students,  who  had  been  ringleaders,  were  expelled;    5 
four  others,  who  had  been  prominent  in  the   affray,  were 
publicly   admonished;    among  the  latter  was   the  unlucky 
Goldsmith. 

To  make  up  for  this  disgrace,  he  gained,  within  a  month 
afterward,  one  of  the  minor  prizes  of  the  college.     It  is  true  10 
it  was  one  of  the  very  smallest,  amounting  in  pecuniary  value 
to  but  thirty  shillings,  but  it  was  the  first  distinction  he  had 
gained  in  his  whole  collegiate  career.     This  turn  of  success 
and  sudden  influx  of  wealth  proved  too  much  for  the  head  of 
our  poor  student.     He  forthwith  gave  a  supper  and  dance  at  15 
his  chamber  to  a  number  of  young  persons  of  both  sexes  from 
the  city,  in  direct  violation  of  college  rules.     The  unwonted 
sound  of  the  fiddle  reached  the  ears  of  the  implacable  Wilder. 
He  rushed  to  the  scene  of  unhallowed  festivity,  inflicted  cor- 
poral punishment  on  the  "father  of  the  feast,"  and  turned  20 
his  astonished  guests  neck  and  heels  out-of-doors. 

This  filled  the  measure  of  poor  Goldsmith's  humiliations ;  he 
felt  degraded  both  within  college  and  without.  He  dreaded 
the  ridicule  of  his  fellow-students  for  the  ludicrous  termi- 
nation of  his  orgie,  and  he  was  ashamed  to  meet  his  city  25 
acquaintances  after  the  degrading  chastisement  received  in 
their  presence,  and  after  their  own  ignominious  expulsion. 
Above  all,  he  felt  it  impossible  to  submit  any  longer  to 
the  insulting  tyranny  of  Wilder :  he  determined,  therefore, 
to  leave,  not  merely  the  college,  but  also  his  native  land,  and  30 
to  bury  what  he  conceived  to  be  his  irretrievable  disgrace  in 
some  distant  country.  He  accordingly  sold  his  books  and 
clothes,  and  sallied  forth  from  the  college  walls  the  very 
next  day,  intending  to  embark  at  Cork  for  —  he  scarce  knew 


24  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

where  —  America,  or  any  other  part  beyond  sea.  \Yith  his 
usual  heedless  imprudence,  however,  he  loitered  about  Dublin 
until  his  finances  were  reduced  to  a  shilling  ;  with  this  amount 
of  specie  he  set  out  on  his  journey. 

5  For  three  whole  days  he  subsisted  on  his  shilling ;  when 
that  was  spent,  he  parted  with  some  of  the  clothes  from  his 
back,  until,  reduced  almost  to  nakedness,  he  was  four-and- 
twenty  hours  without  food,  insomuch  that  he  declared  a  hand- 
ful of  gray  peas,  given  to  him  by  a  girl  at  a  wake,  was  one 

10  of  the  most  delicious  repasts  he  had  ever  tasted.  Hunger, 
fatigue,  and  destitution  brought  down  his  spirit  and  calmed 
his  anger.  Fain  would  he  have  retraced  his  steps,  could  he 
have  done  so  with  any  salvo  for  the  lingerings  of  his  pride. 
In  his  extremity  he  conveyed  to  his  brother  Henry  infor- 

15  mation  of  his  distress,  and  of  the  rash  project  on  which  he 
had  set  out.  His  affectionate  brother  hastened  to  his  relief ; 
furnished  him  with  money  and  clothes ;  soothed  his  feelings 
with  gentle  counsel ;  prevailed  upon  him  to  return  to  col- 
lege, and  effected  an  indifferent  reconciliation  between  him 

20  and  Wilder. 

After  this  irregular  sally  upon  life  he  remained  nearly  two 
years  longer  at  the  University,  giving  proofs  of  talent  in 
occasional  translations  from  the  classics,  for  one  of  which 
he  received  a  premium,  awarded  only  to  those  who  are  the 

25  first  in  literary  merit.  Still  he  never  made  much  figure  at 
college,  his  natural  disinclination  to  study  being  increased 
by  the  harsh  treatment  he  continued  to  experience  from 
his  tutor. 

Among  the  anecdotes  told  of  him  while  at  college  is  one 

30  indicative  of  that  prompt  but  thoughtless  and  often  whimsical 
benevolence  which  throughout  life  formed  one  of  the  most 
eccentric,  yet  endearing  points  of  his  character.  He  was 
engaged  to  breakfast  one  day  with  a  college  intimate,  but 
failed  to  make  his  appearance.  His  friend  repaired  to  his 


FINAL   LEAVE   OF   THE    UNIVERSITY  25 

room,  knocked  at  the  door,  and  was  bidden  to  enter.  To 
his  surprise,  he  found  Goldsmith  in  his  bed,  immersed  to 
his  chin  in  feathers.  A  serio-comic  story  explained  the  cir- 
cumstance. In  the  course  of  the  preceding  evening's  stroll 
he  had  met  with  a  woman  with  five  children,  who  implored  5 
his  charity.  Her  husband  was  in  the  hospital ;  she  was  just 
from  the  country,  a  stranger,  and  destitute,  without  food  or 
shelter  for  her  helpless  offspring.  This  was  too  much  for 
the  kind  heart  of  Goldsmith.  He  was  almost  as  poor  as 
herself,  it  is  true,  and  had  no  money  in  his  pocket ;  but  he  10 
brought  her  to  the  college-gate,  gave  her  the  blankets  from 
his  bed  to  cover  her  little  brood,  and  part  of  his  clothes 
for  her  to  sell  and  purchase  food ;  and,  finding  himself  cold 
during  the  night,  had  cut  open  his  bed  and  buried  himself 
among  the  feathers.  15 

At  length,  on  the  27th  of  February,  1749,  O.  S.,  he  was 
admitted  to  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts,  and  took  his 
final  leave  of  the  University.  He  was  freed  from  college 
rule,  that  emancipation  so  ardently  coveted  by  the  thought- 
less student,  and  which  too  generally  launches  him  amid  20 
the  cares,  the  hardships,  and  vicissitudes  of  life.  He  was 
freed,  too,  from  the  brutal  tyranny  of  Wilder.  If  his  kind 
and  placable  nature  could  retain  any  resentment  for  past 
injuries,  it  might  have  been  gratified  by  learning  subse- 
quently that  the  passionate  career  of  Wilder  was  terminated  25 
by  a  violent  death  in  the  course  of  a  dissolute  brawl ;  but 
Goldsmith  took  no  delight  in  the  misfortunes  even  of  his 
enemies. 

He  now  returned  to  his  friends,  no  longer  the  student  to 
sport  away  the  happy  interval  of  vacation,  but  the  anxious  30 
man,  who  is  henceforth  to  shift  for  himself  and  make  his 
way  through  the  world.  In  fact,  he  had  no  legitimate  home 
to  return  to.  At  the  death  of  his  father,  the  paternal  house 
at  Lissoy,  in  which  Goldsmith  had  passed  his  childhood, 


26  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

had  been  taken  by  Mr.  Hodson,  who  had  married  his  sister 
Catherine.  His  mother  had  removed  to  Ballymahon,  where 
she  occupied  a  small  house,  and  had  to  practise  the  severest 
frugality.  His  elder  brother  Henry  served  the  curacy  and 
5  taught  the  school  of  his  late  father's  parish,  and  lived  in  nar- 
row circumstances  at  Goldsmith's  birthplace,  the  old  goblin- 
house  at  Pallas. 

None  of  his  relatives  were  in  circumstances  to  aid  him 
with  anything  more  than  a  temporary  home,  and  the  aspect 

10  of  everyone  seemed  somewhat  changed.  In  fact,  his  career 
at  college  had  disappointed  his  friends,  and  they  began  to 
doubt  his  being  the  great  genius  they  had  fancied  him. 
He  whimsically  alludes  to  this  circumstance  in  that  piece 
of  autobiography,  "  The  Man  in  Black,"  in  the  "  Citizen  of 

15  the  World." 

"  The  first  opportunity  my  father  had  of  finding  his  expec- 
tations disappointed  was  in  the  middling  figure  I  made  at 
the  University:  he  had  flattered  himself  that  he  should  soon 
see  me  rising  into  the  foremost  rank  in  literary  reputation, 

20  but  was  mortified  to  find  me  utterly  unnoticed  and  unknown. 
His  disappointment  might  have  been  partly  ascribed  to 
his  having  overrated  my  talents,  and  partly  to  my  dislike 
of  mathematical  reasonings  at  a  time  when  my  imagina- 
tion and  memory,  yet  unsatisfied,  were  more  eager  after 

25  new  objects  than  desirous  of  reasoning  upon  those  I  knew. 
This,  however,  did  not  please  my  tutors,  who  observed,  in- 
deed, that  I  was  a  little  dull,  but  at  the  same  time  allowed 
that  I  seemed  to  be  very  good-natured,  and  had  no  harm 
in  me." 1 

30  The  only  one  of  his  relatives  who  did  not  appear  to 
lose  faith  in  him  was  his  uncle  Contarine.  This  kind 
and  considerate  man,  it  is  said,  saw  in  him  a  warmth  of 
heart  requiring  some  skill  to  direct,  and  a  latent  genius  that 

1  Citizen  of  the  World,  letter  xxvii. 


PREPARATION    FOR    HOLY   ORDERS  27 

wanted  time  to  mature ;  and  these  impressions  none  of  his 
subsequent  follies  and  irregularities  wholly  obliterated.  His 
purse  and  affection,  therefore,  as  well  as  his  house,  were 
now  open  to  him,  and  he  became  his  chief  counsellor  and 
director  after  his  father's  death.  He  urged  him  to  pre-  5 
pare  for  holy  orders ;  and  others  of  his  relatives  concurred 
in  the  advice.  Goldsmith  had  a  settled  repugnance  to  a 
clerical  life.  This  has  been  ascribed  by  some  to  consci- 
entious scruples,  not  considering  himself  of  a  temper  and 
frame  of  mind  for  such  a  sacred  office ;  others  attributed  10 
it  to  his  roving  propensities,  and  his  desire  to  visit  for- 
eign countries ;  he  himself  gives  a  whimsical  objection  in 
his  biography  of  the  "  Man  in  Black  "  :  —  "  To  be  obliged 
to  wear  a  long  wig  when  I  liked  a  short  one,  or  a  black 
coat  when  I  generally  dressed  in  brown,  I  thought  such  15 
a  restraint  upon  my  liberty  that  I  absolutely  rejected  the 
proposal." 

In  effect,  however,  his  scruples  were  overruled,  and  he 
agreed  to  qualify  himself  for  the  office.  He  was  now  only 
twenty-one,  and  must  pass  two  years  of  probation.  They  20 
were  two  years  of  rather  loitering,  unsettled  life.  Sometimes 
he  was  at  Lissoy,  participating  with  thoughtless  enjoyment 
in  the  rural  sports  and  occupations  of  his  brother-in-law, 
Mr.  Hodson  ;  sometimes  he  was  with  his  brother  Henry, 
at  the  old  goblin  mansion  at  Pallas,  assisting  him  occa-  25 
sionally  in  his  school.  The  early  marriage  and  unambi- 
tious retirement  of  Henry,  though  so  subversive  of  the 
fond  plans  of  his  father,  had  proved  happy  in  their  results. 
He  was  already  surrounded  by  a  blooming  family ;  he  was 
contented  with  his  lot,  beloved  by  his  parishioners,  and  30 
lived  in  the  daily  practice  of  all  the  amiable  virtues,  and 
the  immediate  enjoyment  of  their  reward.  Of  the  tender 
affection  inspired  in  the  breast  of  Goldsmith  by  the  con- 
stant kindness  of  this  excellent  brother,  and  of  the  longing 


28  OLIVER    C.OLDSMITH 

recollection  with  which,  in  the  lonely  wanderings  of  after- 
years,  he  looked  back  upon  this  scene  of  domestic  felicity, 
we  have  a  touching  instance  in  the  well-known  opening  to 
his  poem  of  "  The  Traveller  "  :  — 

'  Remote,  unfriended,  melancholy,  slow, 
Or  by  the  lazy  Scheld  or  wandering  Po ; 


Where'er  I  roam,  whatever  realms  to  see, 
My  heart  untravell'd  fondly  turns  to  thee  ; 
Still  to  my  brother  turns  with  ceaseless  pain, 
10  And  drags  at  each  remove  a  lengthening  chain. 

"  Eternal  blessings  crown  my  earliest  friend, 
And  round  his  dwelling  guardian  saints  attend ; 
Bless'd  be  that  spot,  where  cheerful  guests  retire 
To  pause  from  toil,  and  trim  their  evening  fire ; 

1 5  Bless'd  that  abcde,  where  want  and  pain  repair, 

And  every  stranger  finds  a  ready  chair: 
Bless'd  be  those  feasts  with  simple  plenty  crown'd 
Where  all  the  ruddy  family  around 
Laugh  at  the  jests  or  pranks  that  never  fail, 

20  Or  sigh  with  pity  at  some  mournful  tale  ; 

Or  press  the  bashful  stranger  to  his  food, 
And  learn  the  luxury  of  doing  good." 

During  this  loitering  life  Goldsmith  pursued  no  study, 
but  rather  amused  himself  with  miscellaneous  reading ;  such 

25  as  biography,  travels,  poetry,  novels,  plays  —  everything,  in 
short,  that  administered  to  the  imagination.  Sometimes 
he  strolled  along  the  banks  of  the  river  Inny ;  where,  in 
after-years,  when  he  had  become  famous,  his  favorite  seats 
and  haunts  used  to  be  pointed  out.  Often  he  joined  in 

30  the  rustic  sports  of  the  villagers,  and  became  adroit  at 
throwing  the  sledge,  a  favorite  feat  of  activity  and  strength 
in  Ireland.  Recollections  of  these  "healthful  sports"  we 
find  in  his  "Deserted  Village  "  :  — 


FONDNESS    FOR   CLUBS  29 

•'  How  often  have  I  bless'd  the  coming  day, 
When  toil  remitting  lent  its  turn  to  play, 
And  all  the  village  train,  from  labor  free, 
Led  up  their  sports  beneath  the  spreading  tree : 
And  many  a  gambol  frolicked  o'er  the  ground,    .  5 

And  sleights  of  art  and  feats  of  strength  went  round." 

A  boon  companion  in  all  his  rural  amusements  was  his 
cousin  and  college  crony,  Robert  Bryanton,  with  whom  he 
sojourned  occasionally  at  Ballymulvey  House  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. They  used  to  make  excursions  about  the  coun-  10 
try  on  foot,  sometimes  fishing,  sometimes  hunting  otter  in 
the  Inny.  They  got  up  a  country  club  at  the  little  inn  of 
Ballymahon,  of  which  Goldsmith  soon  became  the  oracle 
and  prime  wit ;  astonishing  his  unlettered  associates  by 
his  learning,  and  being  considered  capital  at  a  song  and  15 
a  story.  From  the  rustic  conviviality  of  the  inn  at  Bally- 
mahon, and  the  company  which  used  to  assemble  there,  it 
is  surmised  that  he  took  some  hints  in  after-life  for  his  pic- 
turing of  Tony  Lumpkin  and  his  associates  :  "  Dick  Mug- 
gins, the  exciseman  ;  Jack  Slang,  the  horse-doctor ;  little  20 
Aminidab,  that  grinds  the  music-box,  and  Tom  Twist,  that 
spins  the  pewter  platter."  Nay,  it  is  thought  that  Tony's 
drinking-song  at  the  "Three  Jolly  Pigeons"  was  but  a 
revival  of  one  of  the  convivial  catches  at  Ballymahon  :  — 

"  Then  come  put  the  jorum  about,  25 

And  let  us  be  merry  and  clever,. 
Our  hearts  and  our  liquors  are  stout, 

Here's  the  Three  Jolly  Pigeons  forever. 
Let  some  cry  of  woodcock  or  hare, 

Your  bustards,  your  ducks,  and  your  widgeons,  30 

But  of  all  the  gay  birds  in  the  air, 

Here  's  a  health  to  the  Three  Jolly  Pigeons. 

Toroddle,  toroddle,  toroll." 

Notwithstanding  all  these  accomplishments  and  this  rural 
popularity,  his  friends  began  to  shake  their  heads  and  shrug  35 


30  OLIVER    GOLDSMITH 

their  shoulders  when  they  spoke  of  him  ;  and  his  brother 
Henry  noted  with  anything  but  satisfaction  his  frequent 
visits  to  the  club  at  Ballymahon.  He  emerged,  however, 
unscathed  from  this  dangerous  ordeal,  more  fortunate  in 

5  this  respect  than  his  comrade  Bryanton  ;  but  he  retained 
throughout  life  a  fondness  for  clubs  :  often,  too,  in  the 
course  of  his  checkered  career,  he  looked  back  to  this  period 
of  rural  sports  and  careless  enjoyments  as  one  of  the  few 
sunny  spots  of  his  cloudy  life  ;  and  though  he  ultimately 

10  rose  to  associate  with  birds  of  a  finer  feather,  his  heart  would 
still  yearn  in  secret  after  the  "  THREE  JOLLY  PIGEONS." 


TOPICS    AND    QUESTIONS 

1.  To  what  extent  was  Goldsmith's  college  life  like  that  of  the  aver- 
age collegian  of  to-day  ?     In  what  respects  was  it  different  ? 

2.  What  other  distinguished  authors  of  Great  Britain  at  one  time 
or   another  in  their  lives  planned  to  sail  for  America  ?     Would  they 
probably  have  attained  greatness  if  they  had  come  ? 

3.  Is  the  age  at  which  Goldsmith  took  his  degree  above  or  below 
the  present  average  age  for  graduation  from  college  ? 

4.  The  country  club. 


CHAPTER   III 

Goldsmith  rejected  by  the  Bishop  —  Second  Sally  to  see  the  World  —  Takes 
Passage  for  America  —  Ship  sails  without  him — Return  on  Fiddle-back  — 
A  hospitable  Friend  —  The  Counsellor. 

The  time  had  now  arrived  for  Goldsmith  to  apply  for 
orders,  and  he  presented  himself  accordingly  before  the 
Bishop  of  Elphin  for  ordination.  We  have  stated  his  great 
objection  to  clerical  life,  the  obligation  to  wear  a  black  coat ; 
and,  whimsical  as  it  may  appear,  dress  seems  in  fact  to  have  5 
formed  an  obstacle  to  his  entrance  into  the  Church.  He 
had  ever  a  passion  for  clothing  his  sturdy  but  awkward 
little  person  in  gay  colors;  and  on  this  solemn  occasion, 
when  it  was  to  be  supposed  his  garb  would  be  of  suitable 
gravity,  he  appeared  luminously  arrayed  in  scarlet  breeches !  10 
He  was  rejected  by  the  Bishop  :  some  say  for  want  of  suffi- 
cient studious  preparation ;  his  rambles  and  frolics  with  Bob 
Bryanton,  and  his  revels  with  the  club  at  Ballymahon,  having 
been  much  in  the  way  of  his  theological  studies  ;  others 
attribute  his  rejection  to  reports  of  his  college  irregularities,  15 
which  the  Bishop  had  received  from  his  old  tyrant  Wilder; 
but  those  who  look  into  the  matter  with  more  knowing  eyes, 
pronounce  the  scarlet  breeches  to  have  been  the  fundamental 
objection.  "  My  friends,"  says  Goldsmith,  speaking  through 
his  humorous  representative,  the  "Man  in  Black,"  —  "my  20 
friends  were  now  perfectly  satisfied  I  was  undone ;  and  yet 
they  thought  it  a  pity  for  one  that  had  not  the  least  harm  in 
him,  and  was  so  very  good-natured."  His  uncle  Contarine, 
however,  still  remained  unwavering  in  his  kindness,  though 
much  less  sanguine  in  his  expectations.  He  now  looked  25 
round  for  a  humbler  sphere  of  action,  and  through  his 

31 


32  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

influence  and  exertions  Oliver  was  received  as  tutor  in 
the  family  of  a  Mr.  Flinn,  a  gentleman  of  the  neighborhood. 
The  situation  was  apparently  respectable ;  he  had  his  seat 
at  the  table ;  and  joined  the  family  in  their  domestic  recrea- 
5  tions  and  their  evening  game  at  cards.  There  was  a  servility, 
however,  in  his  position,  which  was  not  to  his  taste ;  nor  did 
his  deference  for  the  family  increase  upon  familiar  inter- 
course. He  charged  a  member  of  it  with  unfair  play  at  cards. 
A  violent  altercation  ensued,  which  ended  in  his  throw- 

10  ing  up  his  situation  as  tutor.  On  being  paid  off  he  found 
himself  in  possession  of  an  unheard-of  amount  of  money. 
His  wandering  propensity  and  his  desire  to  see  the  world 
were  instantly  in  the  ascendency.  Without  communicating 
his  plans  or  intentions  to  his  friends,  he  procured  a  good 

15  horse,  and,  with  thirty  pounds  in  his  pocket,  made  his  second 
sally  forth  into  the  world. 

The  worthy  niece  and  housekeeper  of  the  hero  of  La 
Mancha  could  not  have  been  more  surprised  and  dismayed 
at  one  of  the  Don's  clandestine  expeditions  than  were  the 

20  mother  and  friends  of  Goldsmith  when  they  heard  of  his 
mysterious  departure.  Weeks  elapsed,  and  nothing  was  seen 
or  heard  of  him.  It  was  feared  that  he  had  left  the  coun- 
try on  one  of  his  wandering  freaks,  and  his  poor  mother 
was  reduced  almost  to  despair  when  one  day  he  arrived  at 

25  her  door  almost  as  forlorn  in  plight  as  the  prodigal  son. 
Of  his  thirty  pounds  not  a  shilling  was  left ;  and,  instead 
of  the  goodly  steed  on  which  he  had  issued  forth  on  his 
errantry,  he  was  mounted  on  a  sorry  little  pony,  which  he 
had  nicknamed  Fiddle-back.  As  soon  as  his  mother  was 

30  well  assured  of  his  safety,  she  rated  him  soundly  for  his 
inconsiderate  conduct.  His  brothers  and  sisters,  who  were 
tenderly  attached  to  him,  interfered,  and  succeeded  in  mol- 
lifying her  ire  ;  and  whatever  lurking  anger  the  good  dame 
might  have,  was  no  doubt  effectually  vanquished  by  the 


HOSPITABLE    FRIEND  33 

following  whimsical    narrative    which    he    drew    up    at   his 
brother's  house  and  dispatched  to  her:  — 

"  My  dear  mother,  if  you  will  sit  down  and  calmly  listen 
to  what  I  say,  you  shall  be  fully  resolved  in  every  one  of 
those  many  questions  you  have  asked  me.  I  went  to  Cork  5 
and  converted  my  horse,  which  you  prize  so  much  higher 
than  Fiddle-back,  into  cash,  took  my  passage  in  a  ship 
bound  for  America,  and,  at  the  same  time,  paid  the  captain 
for  my  freight  and  all  the  other  expenses  of  my  voyage. 
But  it  so  happened  that  the  wind  did  not  answer  for  three  10 
weeks,  and  you  know,  mother,  that  I  could  not  command 
the  elements.  My  misfortune  was,  that,  when  the  wind 
served,  I  happened  to  be  with  a  party  in  the  country,  and 
my  friend  the  captain  never  inquired  after  me,  but  set  sail 
with  as  much  indifference  as  if  I  had  been  on  board.  The  15 
remainder  of  my  time  I  employed  in  the  city  and  its  envi- 
rons, viewing  everything  curious,  and  you  know  no  one 
can  starve  while  he  has  money  in  his  pocket. 

"  Reduced,  however,  to  my  last  two  guineas,  I  began  to 
think  of  my  dear  mother  and  friends  whom  I  had  left  behind  20 
me,  and  so  bought  that  generous  beast,  Fiddle-back,  and 
bade  adieu  to  Cork  with  only  five  shillings  in  my  pocket. 
This,  to  be  sure,  was  but  a  scanty  allowance  for  man  and 
horse  towards  a  journey  of  above  a  hundred  miles  ;  but  I 
did  not  despair,  for  I  knew  I  must  find  friends  on  the  road.  25 

"  I  recollected  particularly  an  old  and  faithful  acquaint- 
ance I  made  at  college,  who  had  often  and  earnestly  pressed 
me  to  spend  a  summer  with  him,  and  he  lived  but  eight 
miles  from  Cork.  This  circumstance  of  vicinity  he  would 
expatiate  on  to  me  with  peculiar  emphasis.  '  We  shall,'  30 
says  he,  '  enjoy  the  delights  of  both  city  and  country,  and 
you  shall  command  my  stable  and  my  purse.' 

"  However,  upon  the  way  I  met  a  poor  woman  all  in  tears, 
who  told  me  her  husband  had  been  arrested  for  a  debt  he 


34  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

was  not  able  to  pay,  and  that  his  eight  children  must  now 
starve,  bereaved  as  they  were  of  his  industry,  which  had 
been  their  only  support.  I  thought  myself  at  home,  being 
not  far  from  my  good  friend's  house,  and  therefore  parted 
5  with  a  moiety  of  all  my  store ;  and  pray,  mother,  ought  I 
not  have  given  her  the  other  half-crown,  for  what  she  got 
would  be  of  little  use  to  her  ?  However,  I  soon  arrived  at 
the  mansion  of  my  affectionate  friend,  guarded  by  the  vigi- 
lance of  a  huge  mastiff,  who  flew  at  me  and  would  have  torn 

10  me  to  pjeces  but  for  the  assistance  of  a  woman,  whose  coun- 
tenance was  not  less  grim  than  that  of  the  dog;  yet  she  with 
great  humanity  relieved  me  from  the  jaws  of  this  Cerberus, 
and  was  prevailed  on  to  carry  up  my  name  to  her  master. 
"Without  suffering  me  to  wait  long,  my  old  friend,  who 

15  was  then  recovering  from  a  severe  fit  of  sickness,  came 
down  in  his  nightcap,  nightgown,  and  slippers,  and  em- 
braced me  with  the  most  cordial  welcome,  showed  me  in, 
and,  after  giving  me  a  history  of  his  indisposition,  assured 
me  that  he  considered  himself  peculiarly  fortunate  in  having 

20  under  his  roof  the  man  he  most  loved  on  earth,  and  whose 
stay  with  him  must,  above  all  things,  contribute  to  perfect 
his  recovery.  I  now  repented  sorely  I  had  not  given  the 
poor  woman  the  other  half-crown,  as  I  thought  all  my  bills 
of  humanity  would  be  punctually  answered  by  this  worthy 

25  man.  I  revealed  to  him  my  whole  soul ;  I  opened  to  him 
all  my  distresses ;  and  freely  owned  that  I  had  but  one  half- 
crown  in  my  pocket ;  but  that  now,  like  a  ship  after  weath- 
ering out  the  storm,  I  considered  myself  secure  in  a  safe 
and  hospitable  harbor.  He  made  no  answer,  but  walked 

30  about  the  room,  rubbing  his  hands  as  one  in  deep  study. 
This  I  imputed  to  the  sympathetic  feelings  of  a  tender 
heart,  which  increased  my  esteem  for  him,  and,  as  that  in- 
creased, I  gave  the  most  favorable  interpretation  to  his 
silence.  I  construed  it  into  delicacy  of  sentiment,  as  if  he 


KRUGAL    ENTERTAINMENT  35 

dreaded  to  wound  my  pride  by  expressing  his  commiseration 
in  words,  leaving  his  generous  conduct  to  speak  for  itself. 

"  It  now  approached  six  o'clock  in  the  evening;  and  as  I 
had  eaten  no  breakfast,  and  as  my  spirits  were  raised,  my 
appetite  for  dinner  grew  uncommonly  keen.  At  length  the  5 
old  woman  came  into  the  room  with  two  plates,  one  spoon, 
and  a  dirty  cloth,  which  she  laid  upon  the  table.  This 
appearance,  without  increasing  my  spirits,  did  not  diminish 
my  appetite.  My  protectress  soon  returned  with  a  small 
bowl  of  sago,  a  small  porringer  of  sour  milk,  a  loaf  of  stale  10 
brown  bread,  and  the  heel  of  an  old  cheese  all  over  crawling 
with  mites.  My  friend  apologized  that  his  illness  obliged 
him  to  live  on  slops,  and  that  better  fare  was  not  in  the 
house ;  observing,  at  the  same  time,  that  a  milk  diet  was 
certainly  the  most  healthful ;  and  at  eight  o'clock  he  again  15 
recommended  a  regular  life,  declaring  that  for  his  part  he 
would  lie  down  with  the  lamb  and  rise  with  the  lark.  My 
hunger  was  at  this  time  so  exceedingly  sharp  that  I  wished 
for  another  slice  of  the  loaf,  but  was  obliged  to  go  to  bed 
without  even  that  refreshment.  20 

"  This  lenten  entertainment  I  had  received  made  me 
resolve  to  depart  as  soon  as  possible ;  accordingly,  next 
morning,  when  I  spoke  of  going,  he  did  not  oppose  my 
resolution ;  he  rather  commended  my  design,  adding  some 
very  sage  counselupon  the  occasion.  'To  be  sure,'  said  25 
he,  'the  longer  you  stay  away  from  your  mother,  the  more 
you  will  grieve  her  and  your  other  friends ;  and  possibly 
they  are  already  afflicted  at  hearing  of  this  foolish  expedi- 
tion you  have  made.'  Notwithstanding  all  this,  and  without 
any  hope  of  softening  such  a  sordid  heart,  I  again  renewed  30 
the  tale  of  my  distress,  and  asking  '  how  he  thought  I  could 
travel  above  a  hundred  miles  upon  one  half-crown?'  I 
begged  to  borrow  a  single  guinea,  which  I  assured  him 
should  be  repaid  with  thanks.  '  And  you  know,  sir,'  said 


36  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

I,  'it  is  no  more  than  I  have  done  for  you.'  To  which 
he  firmly  answered,  'Why,  look  you,  Mr.  Goldsmith,  that  is 
neither  here  nor  there.  I  have  paid  you  all  you  ever  lent 
me,  and  this  sickness  of  mine  has  left  me  bare  of  cash. 
5  But  I  have  bethought  myself  of  a  conveyance  for  you ;  sell 
your  horse,  and  I  will  furnish  you  a  much  better  one  to  ride 
on.'  I  readily  grasped  at  his  proposal,  and  begged  to  see 
the  nag;  on  which  he  led  me  to  his  bedchamber,  and  from 
under  the  bed  he  pulled  out  a  stout  oak  stick.  '  Here  he 

10  is,'  said  he  ;  'take  this  in  your  hand,  and  it  will  carry  you  to 
your  mother's  with  more  safety  than  such  a  horse  as  you 
ride.'  I  was  in  doubt,  when  I  got  it  into  my  hand,  whether 
I  should  not,  in  the  first  place,  apply  it  to  his  pate  ;  but  a 
rap  at  the  street-door  made  the  wretch  fly  to  it,  and  when  I 

15  returned  to  the  parlor  he  introduced  me,  as  if  nothing  of  the 
kind  had  happened,  to  the  gentleman  who  entered,  as  Mr. 
Goldsmith,  his  most  ingenious  and  worthy  friend,  of  whom  he 
had  so  often  heard  him  speak  with  rapture.  I  could  scarcely 
compose  myself  ;  and  must  have  betrayed  indignation  in  my 

20  mien   to   the   stranger,  who  was  a  counsellor-at-law  in  the 

neighborhood,  a  man  of  engaging  aspect  and  polite  address. 

"  After  spending  an  hour,  he  asked  my  friend  and  me  to 

dine  with  him  at  his  house.     This  I  declined  at  first,  as  I 

wished  to  have  no  farther  communication  with  my  hospi- 

25  table  friend ;  but  at  the  solicitation  of  both  I  at  last  con- 
sented, determined  as  I  was  by  two  motives  :  one,  that  I 
was  prejudiced  in  favor  of  the  looks  and  manner  of  the  coun- 
sellor ;  and  the  other,  that  I  stood  in  need  of  a  comfort- 
able dinner.  And  there,  indeed,  I  found  everything  that 

30  I  could  wish,  abundance  without  profusion,  and  elegance 
without  affectation.  In  the  evening,  when  my  old  friend, 
who  had  eaten  very  plentifully  at  his  neighbor's  table,  but 
talked  again  of  lying  down  with  the  lamb,  made  a  motion 
to  me  for  retiring,  our  generous  host  requested  I  should 


CHANCE   COURTESIES 


37 


take  a  bed  with  him,  upon  which  I  plainly  told  my  old  friend 
that  he  might  go  home  and  take  care  of  the  horse  he  had 
given  me,  but  that  I  should  never  reenter  his  doors.  He  went 
away  with  a  laugh,  leaving  me  to  add  this  to  the  other  little 
things  the  counsellor  already  knew  of  his  plausible  neighbor.  5 

"And  now,  my  dear  mother,  I  found  sufficient  to  recon- 
cile me  to  all  my  follies ;  for  here  I  spent  three  whole  days. 
The  counsellor  had  two  sweet  girls  to  his  daughters,  who 
played  enchantingly  on  the  harpsichord ;  and  yet  it  was  but 
a  melancholy  pleasure  I  felt  the  first  time  I  heard  them ;  10 
for  that  being  the  first  time  also  that  either  of  them  had 
touched  the  instrument  since  their  mother's  death,  I  saw 
the  tears  in  silence  trickle  down  their  father's  cheeks.  I 
every  day  endeavored  to  go  away,  but  every  day  was  pressed 
and  obliged  to  stay.  On  my  going,  the  counsellor  offered  15 
me  his  purse,  with  a  horse  and  servant  to  convey  me  home ; 
but  the  latter  I  declined,  and  only  took  a  guinea  to  bear  my 
necessary  expenses  on  the  road.  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

"  To  Mrs.  Anne  Goldsmith,  Ballymahon." 

Such  is  the  story  given  by  the  poet-errant  of  this  his  20 
second  sally  in  quest  of  adventures.     We  cannot  but  think 
it  was  here  and  there  touched  up  a  little  with  the  fanciful 
pen  of  the  future  essayist,  with  a  view  to  amuse  his  mother 
and  soften  her  vexation ;  but  even  in  these  respects  it  is  valu- 
able as  showing  the  early  play  of  his  humor,  and  his  happy  25 
knack  of  extracting  sweets  from  that  worldly  experience 
which  to  others  yields  nothing  but  bitterness. 

TOPICS    AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Contrast  the  dispositions  of  Goldsmith  and  his  college  friend. 

2.  How  many  dates  has  Irving  thus  far  inserted  in  the  biography  ? 

3.  Is  there  any  incident  in  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  correspond- 
ing at  all  with  Goldsmith's  disposing  of  his  horse  ? 


CHAPTER  IV 

Sallies  forth  as  a  Law  Student  —  Stumbles  at  the  Outset  —  Cousin  Jane  and 
the  Valentine  —  A  Family  Oracle  —  Sallies  forth  as  a  Student  of  Medi- 
cine—  Hocus-pocus  of  a  Boarding-House — Transformations  of  a  Leg  of 
Mutton  —  The  mock  Ghost  —  Sketches  of  Scotland  —  Trials  of  Toadyism 
—  A  Poet's  Purse  for  a  Continental  Tour. 

A  new  consultation  was  held  among  Goldsmith's  friends 
as  to  his  future  course,  and  it  was  determined  he  should  try 
the  law.  His  uncle  Contarine  agreed  to  advance  the  neces- 
sary funds,  and  actually  furnished  him  with  fifty  pounds, 
5  with  which  he  set  off  for  London,  to  enter  on  his  studies  at 
the  Temple.  Unfortunately,  he  fell  in  company  at  Dublin 
with  a  Roscommon  acquaintance,  one  whose  wits  had  been 
sharpened  about  town,  who  beguiled  him  into  a  gambling- 
house,  and  soon  left  him  as  penniless  as  when  he  bestrode 

10  the  redoubtable  Fiddle-back. 

He  was  so  ashamed  of  this  fresh  instance  of  gross  heed- 
lessness  and  imprudence,  that  he  remained  some  time  in 
Dublin  without  communicating  to  his  friends  his  destitute 
condition.  They  heard  of  it,  however,  and  he  was  invited 

15  back  to  the  country,  and  indulgently  forgiven  by  his  gen- 
erous uncle,  but  less  readily  by  his  mother,  who  was  mor- 
tified and  disheartened  at  seeing  all  her  early  hopes  of  him 
so  repeatedly  blighted.  His  brother  Henry,  too,  began  to 
lose  patience  at  these  successive  failures,  resulting  from 

20  thoughtless  indiscretion  ;  and  a  quarrel  took  place,  which  for 

some  time  interrupted  their  usually  affectionate  intercourse. 

The  only  home  where  poor  erring  Goldsmith  still  received 

a  welcome,  was  the  parsonage  of  his  affectionate  forgiving 

uncle.     Here  he  used  to  talk  of  literature  with   the  good 

25  simple-hearted  man,  and  delight  him  and  his  daughter  with 

38 


THE    FAMILY   CIRCLE  39 

his  verses.  Jane,  his  early  playmate,  was  now  the  woman 
grown  ;  their  intercourse  was  of  a  more  intellectual  kind 
than  formerly ;  they  discoursed  of  poetry  and  music ;  she 
played  on  the  harpsichord,  and  he  accompanied  her  with 
his  flute.  The  music  may  not  have  been  very  artistic,  as  5 
he  never  performed  but  by  ear ;  it  had  probably  as  much 
merit  as  the  poetry,  which,  if  we  may  judge  by  the  follow- 
ing specimen,  was  as  yet  but  juvenile  :  — 

TO  A   YOUNG    LADY    ON    VALENTINE'S   DAY 

WITH  THE  DRAWING  OF  A  HEART  IO 

With  submission  at  your  shrine, 

Comes  a  heart  your  Valentine  ; 

From  the  side  where  once  it  grew, 

See  it  panting  flies  to  you. 

Take  it,  fair  one,  to  your  breast,  15 

Soothe  the  fluttering  thing  to  rest; 

Let  the  gentle,  spotless  toy 

Be  your  sweetest,  greatest  joy ; 

Every  night  when  wrapp'd  in  sleep, 

Next  your  heart  the  conquest  keep ;  20 

Or  if  dreams  your  fancy  move, 

Hear  it  whisper  me  and  love  ; 

Then  in  pity  to  the  swain, 

Who  must  heartless  else  remain, 

Soft  as  gentle  dewy  show'rs,  25 

Slow  descend  on  April  flow'rs; 

Soft  as  gentle  riv'lets  glide, 

Steal  unnoticed  to  my  side ; 

If  the  gem  you  have  to  spare, 

Take  your  own  and  place  it  there.  30 

If  this  Valentine  was  intended  for  the  fair  Jane,  and 
expressive  of  a  tender  sentiment  indulged  by  the  stripling 
poet,  it  was  unavailing;  as  not  long  afterwards  she  was 
married  to  a  Mr.  Lawder.  We  trust,  however,  it  was  but 
a  poetical  passion  of  that  transient  kind  which  grows  up  in  35 


40  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

idleness  and  exhales  itself  in  rhyme.  While  Oliver  was 
thus  piping  and  poetizing  at  the  parsonage,  his  uncle  Con- 
tarine  received  a  visit  from  Dean  Goldsmith  of  Cloyne,  — 
a  kind  of  magnate  in  the  wide  but  improvident  family 
5  connection,  throughout  which  his  word  was  law  and  almost 
gospel.  This  august  dignitary  was  pleased  to  discover 
signs  of  talent  in  Oliver,  and  suggested  that,  as  he  had 
attempted  divinity  and  law  without  success,  he  should  now 
try  physic.  The  advice  came  from  too  important  a  source 

to  to  be  disregarded,  and  it  was  determined  to  send  him 
to  Edinburgh  to  commence  his  studies.  The  Dean  having 
given  the  advice,  added  to  it,  we  trust,  his  blessing,  but  no 
money;  that  was  furnished  from  the  scantier  purses  of  Gold- 
smith's brother,  his  sister  (Mrs.  Hodson),  and  his  ever-ready 

15  uncle,  Contarine. 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  1752  that  Goldsmith  arrived  in 
Edinburgh.  His  outset  in  that  city  came  near  adding  to 
the  list  of  his  indiscretions  and  disasters.  Having  taken 
lodgings  at  haphazard,  he  left  his  trunk  there,  containing  all 

20  his  worldly  effects,  and  sallied  forth  to  see  the  town.  After 
sauntering  about  the  streets  until  a  late  hour,  he  thought 
of  returning  home,  when,  to  his  confusion,  he  found  he  had 
not  acquainted  himself  with  the  name  either  of  his  land- 
lady or  of  the  street  in  which  she  lived.  Fortunately,  in 

25  the  height  of  his  whimsical  perplexity,  he  met  the  cawdy 
or  porter  who  had  carried  his  trunk,  and  who  now  served 
him  as  a  guide. 

He  did  not  remain  long  in  the  lodgings  in  which  he  had 
put  up.  The  hostess  was  too  adroit  at  that  hocus-pocus  of 

30  the  table  which  often  is  practised  in  cheap  boarding-houses. 
No  one  could  conjure  a  single  joint  through  a  greater  variety 
of  forms.  A  loin  of  mutton,  according  to  Goldsmith's  account, 
would  serve  him  and  two  fellow-students  a  whole  week.  "A 
brandered  chop  was  served  up  one  day,  a  fried  steak  another, 


CARELESSNESS    IN    MONEY-MATTERS          41 

collops  with  onion-sauce  a  third,  and  so  on  until  the  fleshy 
parts  were  quite  consumed,  when  finally  a  dish  of  broth  was 
manufactured  from  the  bones  on  the  seventh  day,  and  the 
landlady  rested  from  her  labors."  Goldsmith  had  a  good- 
humored  mode  of  taking  things,  and  for  a  short  time  amused  5 
himself  with  the  shifts  and  expedients  of  his  landlady,  which 
struck  him  in  a  ludicrous  manner ;  he  soon,  however,  fell  in 
with  fellow-students  from  his  own  country,  whom  he  joined 
at  more  eligible  quarters. 

He  now  attended  medical  lectures,  and  attached  himself  10 
to  an  association   of  students  called  the  Medical  Society. 
He  set  out,  as  usual,  with  the  best  intentions,  but,  as  usual, 
soon  fell  into  idle,  convivial,  thoughtless  habits.    Edinburgh 
was  indeed  a  place  of  sore  trial  for  one  of  his  temperament. 
Convivial  meetings  were  all  the  vogue,  and  the  tavern  was  15 
the  universal  rallying-place  of  good-fellowship.     And  then 
Goldsmith's  intimacies  lay  chiefly  among  the  Irish  students, 
who  were  always  ready  for  a  wild  freak  and  frolic.     Among 
them  he  was  a  prime  favorite  and  somewhat  of  a  leader, 
from  his  exuberance  of  spirits,  his  vein  of  humor,  and  his  20 
talent  at  singing  an  Irish  song  and  telling  an  Irish  story. 

His  usual  carelessness  in  money-matters  attended  him. 
Though  his  supplies  from  home  were  scanty  and  irregular, 
he  never  could  bring  himself  into  habits  of  prudence  and 
economy;  often  he  was  stripped  of  all  his  present  finances  25 
at  play;  often  he  lavished  them  away  in  fits  of  unguarded 
charity  or  generosity.  Sometimes  among  his  boon  com- 
panions he  assumed  a  ludicrous  swagger  in  money-matters, 
which  no  one  afterward  was  more  ready  than  himself  to 
laugh  at.  At  a  convivial  meeting  with  a  number  of  his  30 
fellow-students  he  suddenly  proposed  to  draw  lots  with  any 
one  present  which  of  the  two  should  treat  the  whole  party 
to  the  play.  The  moment  the  proposition  had  bolted  from 
his  lips,  his  heart  was  in  his  throat.  "  To  my  great  though 


42  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

secret  joy,"  said  he,  "they  all  declined  the  challenge.  Had 
it  been  accepted,  and  had  I  proved  the  loser,  a  part  of  my 
wardrobe  must  have  been  pledged  in  order  to  raise  the 
money." 

5  At  another  of  these  meetings  there  was  an  earnest  dispute 
on  the  question  of  ghosts,  some  being  firm  believers  in  the 
possibility  of  departed  spirits  returning  to  visit  their  friends 
and  familiar  haunts.  One  of  the  disputants  set  sail  the  next 
day  for  London,  but  the  vessel  put  back  through  stress  of 

10  weather.  His  return  was  unknown  except  to  one  of  the 
believers  in  ghosts,  who  concerted  with  him  a  trick  to  be 
played  off  on  the  opposite  party.  In  the  evening,  at  a  meet- 
ing of  the  students,  the  discussion  was  renewed ;  and  one  of 
the  most  strenuous  opposers  of  ghosts  was  asked  whether 

15  he  considered  himself  proof  against  ocular  demonstration. 
He  persisted  in  his  scoffing.  Some  solemn  process  of  con- 
juration was  performed,  and  the  comrade  supposed  to  be  on 
his  way  to  London  made  his  appearance.  The  effect  was 
fatal.  The  unbeliever  fainted  at  the  sight,  and  ultimately 

20  went  mad.  We  have  no  account  of  what  share  Goldsmith 
took  in  this  transaction,  at  which  he  was  present. 

The  following  letter  to  his  friend  Bryan  ton  contains  some  of 
Goldsmith's  impressions  concerning  Scotland  and  its  inhab- 
itants, and  gives  indications  of  that  humor  which  characterized 

25  some  of  his  later  writings. 

"Robert  Bryanton,  at  Ballymahon,  Ireland. 

"  EDINBURGH,  September  26th,  1753. 
"  MY  DEAR  BOB,  — 

"  How  many  good  excuses  (and  you  know  I  was  ever 

30  good  at  an  excuse)  might  I  call  up  to  vindicate  my  past 

shameful  silence.     I  might  tell  how  I  wrote  a  long  letter 

on  my  first   coming  hither,   and   seem  vastly  angry  at  my 

nqt  receiving  an  answer ;  I  might  allege  that  business  (with 


SKKTCHES   OK   SCOTLAND  43 

business  you  know  I  was  always  pestered)  had  never  given 
me  time  to  finger  a  pen.  But  I  suppress  those  and  twenty 
more  as  plausible,  and  as  easily  invented,  since  they  might 
be  attended  with  a  slight  inconvenience  of  being  known  to 
be  lies.  Let  me  then  speak  truth.  An  hereditary  indolence  5 
(I  have  it  from  the  mother's  side)  has  hitherto  prevented 
my  writing  to  you,  and  still  prevents  my  writing  at  least 
twenty-five  letters  more,  due  to  my  friends  in  Ireland.  No 
turnspit-dog  gets  up  into  his  wheel  with  more  reluctance 
than  I  sit  down  to  write ;  yet  no  dog  ever  loved  the  roast  10 
meat  he  turns  better  than  I  do  him  I  now  address. 

"Yet  what  shall  I  say  now  I  am  entered?  Shall  I  tire 
you  with  a  description  of  this  unfruitful  country  ;  where  I 
must  lead  you  over  their  hills  all  brown  with  heath,  or  their 
valleys  scarcely  able  to  feed  a  rabbit?  Man  alone  seems  to  15 
be  the  only  creature  who  has  arrived  to  the  natural  size  in 
this  poor  soil.  Every  part  of  the  country  presents  the  same 
dismal  landscape.  No  grove,  nor  brook,  lend  their  music 
to  cheer  the  stranger,  or  make  the  inhabitants  forget  their 
poverty.  Yet  with  all  these  disadvantages  to  call  him  down  20 
to  humility,  a  Scotchman  is  one  of  the  proudest  things  alive. 
The  poor  have  pride  ever  ready  to  relieve  them.  If  man- 
kind should  happen  to  despise  them,  they  are  masters  of 
their  own  admiration  ,  and  that  they  can  plentifully  bestow 
upon  themselves.  25 

"  From  their  pride  and  poverty,  as  I  take  it,  results  one 
advantage  this  country  enjoys ;  namely,  the  gentlemen  here 
are  much  better  bred  than  among  us.  No  such  character 
here  as  our  fox-hunters  ;  and  they  have  expressed  great 
surprise  when  I  informed  them  that  some  men  in  Ireland,  30 
of  one  thousand  pounds  a  year,  spend  their  whole  lives  in 
running  after  a  hare,  and  drinking  to  be  drunk.  Truly,  if 
such  a  being,  equipped  in  his  hunting-dress,  came  among 
a  circle  of  Scotch  gentry,  they  would  behold  him  with  the 


44  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

same  astonishment  that  a  countryman  does  King  George 
on  horseback. 

"  The  men  here  have  generally  high  cheek-bones,  and  are 
lean  and  swarthy,  fond  of  action,  dancing  in  particular.  Now 
5  that  I  have  mentioned  dancing,  let  me  say  something  of  their 
balls,  which  are  very  frequent  here.  When  a  stranger  enters 
the  dancing-hall,  he  sees  one  end  of  the  room  taken  up  by 
the  ladies,  who  sit  dismally  in  a  group  by  themselves  ;  —  in 
the  other  end  stand  their  pensive  partners  that  are  to  be;  — 

10  but  no  more  intercourse  between  the  sexes  than  there  is 
between  two  countries  at  war.  The  ladies  indeed  may  ogle, 
and  the  gentlemen  sigh  ;  but  an  embargo  is  laid  on  any  closer 
commerce.  At  length,  to  interrupt  hostilities,  the  lady  direc- 
tress, or  intendant,  or  what  you  will,  pitches  upon  a  lady  and 

15  gentleman  to  walk  a  minuet;  which  they  perform  with  a 
formality  that  approaches  to  despondence.  After  five  or  six 
couple  have  thus  walked  the  gauntlet,  all  stand  up  to  country 
dances ;  each  gentleman  furnished  with  a  partner  from  the 
aforesaid  lady  directress ;  so  they  dance  much,  say  nothing, 

20  and  thus  concludes  our  assembly.  I  told  a  Scotch  gentleman 
that  such  profound  silence  resembled  the  ancient  procession 
of  the  Roman  matrons  in  honor  of  Ceres  ;  and  the  Scotch 
gentleman  told  me  (and,  faith  I  believe  he  was  right)  that  I 
was  a  very  great  pedant  for  my  pains. 

25  "  Now  I  am  come  to  the  ladies  ;  and  t'o  show  that  I  love 
Scotland,  and  everything  that  belongs  to  so  charming  a  coun- 
try, I  insist  on  it,  and  will  give  him  leave  to  break  my  head 
that  denies  it  —  that  the  Scotch  ladies  are  ten  thousand  times 
finer  and  handsomer  than  the  Irish.  To  be  sure,  now,  I 

30  see  your  sisters  Betty  and   Peggy  vastly  surprised  at  my 

partiality,  —  but  tell  them  flatly,  I   don't  value  them  —  or 

their  fine  skins,  or  eyes,  or  good  sense,  or  -  — ,  a  potato  ; 

—  for  I  say,  and  will  maintain  it;  and  as  a  convincing  proof 

(I  am  in  a  great  passion)  of  what  I  assert,  the  Scotch  ladies 


SKETCHES    OF    SCOTLAND 


45 


say  it  themselves.  But  to  be  less  serious  ;  where  will  you 
find  a  language  so  prettily  become  a  pretty  mouth  as  the 
broad  Scotch  ?  And  the  women  here  speak  it  in  its  highest 
purity  ;  for  instance,  teach  one  of  your  young  ladies  at  home 
to  pronounce  the  '  Whoar  wull  I  gong  ? '  with  a  becoming  5 
widening  of  mouth,  and  I  '11  lay  my  life  they  '11  wound  every 
hearer. 

"  We  have  no  such  character  here  as  a  coquette,  but  alas  ! 
how  many  envious  prudes  !  Some  days  ago  I  walked  into 
my  Lord  Kilcoubry's  (don't  be  surprised,  my  lord  is  but  a  10 
glover),1  when  the  Duchess  of  Hamilton  (that  fair  who  sacri- 
ficed her  beauty  to  her  ambition,  and  her  inward  peace  to  a 
title  and  gilt  equipage)  passed  by  in  her  chariot ;  her  battered 
husband,  or  more  properly  the  guardian  of  her  charms,  sat 
by  her  side.  Straight  envy  began,  in  the  shape  of  no  less  15 
than  three  ladies  who  sat  with  me,  to  find  faults  in  her  fault- 
less form.  — '  For  my  part,'  says  the  first,  '  I  think  what  I 
always  thought,  that  the  Duchess  has  too  much  of  the  red  in 
her  complexion.'  'Madam,  I  am  of  your  opinion,'  says  the 
second ;  '  I  think  her  face  has  a  palish  cast  too  much  on  the  20 
delicate  order.'  '  And,  let  me  tell  you,'  added  the  third  lady, 
whose  mouth  was  puckered  up  to  the  size  of  an  issue,  '  that 
the  Duchess  has  fine  lips,  but  she  wants  a  mouth.'  —  At  this 
every  lady  drew  up.  her  mouth  as  if  going  to  pronounce  the 
letter  P.  25 

"  But  how  ill,  my  Bob,  does  it  become  me  to  ridicule 
women  with  whom  I  have  scarcely  any  correspondence  ! 
There  are,  't  is  certain,  handsome  women  here ;  and  't  is 
certain  they  have  handsome  men  to  keep  them  company. 
An  ugly  and  poor  man  is  society  only  for  himself ;  and  such  30 

1  \Yilliam  Maclellan,  who  claimed  the  title,  and  whose  son  succeeded  in 
establishing  the  claim  in  1773.  Tne  father  is  said  to  have  voted  at  the  election 
of  the  sixteen  Peers  for  Scotland ;  and  to  have  sold  gloves  in  the  lobby  at  this 
and  other  public  assemblages. 


46  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

society  the  world  lets  me  enjoy  in  great  abundance.  For- 
tune has  given  you  circumstances,  and  Nature  a  person  to 
look  charming  in  the  eyes  of  the  fair.  Nor  do  I  envy  my 
dear  Bob  such  blessings,  while  I  may  sit  down  and  laugh  at 
5  the  world  and  at  myself  —  the  most  ridiculous  object  in  it. 
But  you  see  I  am  grown  downright  splenetic,  and  perhaps 
the  fit  may  continue  till  I  receive  an  answer  to  this.  I  know 
you  cannot  send  me  much  news  from  Ballymahon,  but  such 
as  it  is,  send  it  all ;  everything  you  send  will  be  agreeable 

10  to  me. 

"  Has  George  Conway  put  up  a  sign  yet ;  or  John  Binley 
left  off  drinking  drams  ;  or  Tom  Allen  got  a  new  wig  ?  But 
I  leave  you  to  your  own  choice  what  to  write.  While  I  live, 
know  you  have  a  true  friend  in  yours,  &c.  &c.  &c. 

15  "  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

"  P.  S.  —  Give  my  sincere  respects  (not  compliments,  do 
you  mind)  to  your  agreeable  family,  and  give  my  service  to 
my  mother,  if  you  see  her ;  for,  as  you  express  it  in  Ire- 
land, I  have  a  sneaking  kindness  for  her  still.     Direct  to 
20  me,       ,  Student  in  Physic,  in  Edinburgh." 

Nothing  worthy  of  preservation  appeared  from  his  pen 
during  his  residence  in  Edinburgh  ;  and  indeed  his  poetical 
powers,  highly  as  they  had  been  estimated  by  his  friends, 
had  not  as  yet  produced  anything  of  superior  merit.  He 

25  made  on  one  occasion  a  month's  excursion  to  the  Highlands. 
"  I  set  out  the  first  day  on  foot,"  says  he,  in  a  letter  to  his 
uncle  Contarine,  "  but  an  ill-natured  corn  I  have  on  my  toe 
has  for  the  future  prevented  that  cheap  mode  of  travelling ; 
so  the  second  day  I  hired  a  horse,  about  the  size  of  a  ram, 

30  and  he  walked  away  (trot  he  could  not)  as  pensive  as  his 
master." 

During  his  residence  in  Scotland  his  convivial  talents 
gained  him  at  one  time  attentions  in  a  high  quarter,  which, 


PLANS   FOR   STUDY   ON    THE   CONTINENT 


47 


however,  he  had  the  good  sense  to  appreciate  correctly.  "  I 
have  spent,"  says  he,  in  one  of  his  letters,  "more  than  a 
fortnight  every  second  day  at  the  Duke  of  Hamilton's ;  but 
it  seems  they  like  me  more  as  a  jester  than  as  a  companion, 
so  I  disdained  so  servile  an  employment  as  unworthy  my  5 
calling  as  a  physician."  Here  we  again  find  the  origin  of 
another  passage  in  his  autobiography,  under  the  character 
of  the  "  Man  in  Black,"  wherein  that  worthy  figures  as  a 
flatterer  to  a  great  man.  "At  first,"  says  he,  "I  was  sur- 
prised that  the  situation  of  a  flatterer  at  a  great  man's  table  10 
could  be  thought  disagreeable ;  there  was  no  great  trouble 
in  listening  attentively  when  his  lordship  spoke,  and  laugh- 
ing when  he  looked  round  for  applause.  This,  even  good 
manners  might  have  obliged  me  to  perform.  I  found,  how- 
ever, too  soon,  his  lordship  was  a  greater  dunce  than  myself,  15 
and  from  that  moment  flattery  was  at  an  end.  I  now  rather 
aimed  at  setting  him  right  than  at  receiving  his  absurdities 
with  submission  :  to  flatter  those  we  do  not  know  is  an  easy 
task ;  but  to  flatter  our  intimate  acquaintances,  all  whose 
foibles  are  strongly  in  our  eyes,  is  drudgery  insupportable.  20 
Every  time  I  now  opened  my  lips  in  praise,  my  falsehood 
went  to  my  conscience ;  his  lordship  soon  perceived  me  to 
be  very  unfit  for  his  service :  I  was  therefore  discharged ; 
my  patron  at  the  same  time  being  graciously  pleased  to 
observe  that  he  believed  I  was  tolerably  good-natured  and  25 
had  not  the  least  harm  in  me." 

After  spending  two  winters  at  Edinburgh,  Goldsmith 
prepared  to  finish  his  medical  studies  on  the  Continent, 
for  which  his  uncle  Contarine  agreed  to  furnish  the  funds. 
"I  intend,"  said  he,  in  a  letter  to  his  uncle,  "to  visit  Paris,  30 
where  the  great  Farheim,  Petit,  and  Du  Hamel  de  Monceau 
instruct  their  pupils  in  all  the  branches  of  medicine.  They 
speak  French,  and  consequently  I  shall  have  much  the  advan- 
tage of  most  of  my  countrymen,  as  I  am  perfectly  acquainted 


48  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

with  that  language,  and  few  who  leave  Ireland  are  so.     1 
shall  spend  the  spring  and  summer  in  Paris,  and  the  begin- 
ning of  next  winter  go  to  Leyden.     The  great  Albinus  is 
still  alive  there,  and  't  will  be  proper  to  go,  though  only  to 
5  have  it  said  that  we  have  studied  in  so  famous  a  university. 
"As   I   shall  not  have  another  opportunity  of  receiving 
money  from  your  bounty  till  my  return  to  Ireland,  so  I  have 
drawn  for  the  last  sum  that  I  hope  I  shall  ever  trouble  you 
for;  'tis  £20.     And  now,  dear  sir,  let  me  here  acknowledge 

10  the  humility  of  the  station  in  which  you  found  me  ;  let  me 
tell  how  I  was  despised  by  most,  and  hateful  to  myself. 
Poverty,  hopeless  poverty,  was  my  lot,  and  Melancholy  was 

beginning  to  make  me  her  own,  when  you But  I  stop 

here,  to  inquire  how  your  health  goes  on  ?     How  does  my 

15  cousin  Jenny,  and  has  she  recovered  her  late  complaint? 
How  does  my  poor  Jack  Goldsmith  ?  I  fear  his  disorder  is 
of  such  a  nature  as  he  won't  easily  recover.  I  wish,  my  dear 
sir,  you  would  make  me  happy  by  another  letter  before  I  go 
abroad,  for  there  I  shall  hardly  hear  from  you.  .  .  .  Give 

20  my  —  how  shall  I  express  it?  —  give  my  earnest  love  to 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lawder." 

Mrs.  Lawder  was  Jane,  his  early  playmate  —  the  object 
of  his  valentine  —  his  first  poetical  inspiration.  She  had 
been  for  some  time  married. 

25  Medical  instruction,  it  will  be  perceived,  was  the  ostensi- 
ble motive  for  this  visit  to  the  Continent,  but  the  real  one, 
in  all  probability,  was  his  long-cherished  desire  to  see  for- 
eign parts.  This,  however,  he  would  not  acknowledge  even 
to  himself,  but  sought  to  reconcile  his  roving  propensities 

30  with  some  grand  moral  purpose.  "  I  esteem  the  traveller 
who  instructs  the  heart,"  says  he,  in  one  of  his  subsequent 
writings,  "  but  I  despise  him  who  only  indulges  the  imagina- 
tion. A  man  who  leaves  home  to  mend  himself  and  others, 
is  a  philosopher;  but  he  who  goes  from  country  to  country, 


11  IE    LAST   SALLY    UPON    THE    WORLD          49 

guided  by  the  blind  impulse  of  curiosity,  is  only  a  vaga- 
bond." He,  of  course,  was  to  travel  as  a  philosopher,  and 
in  truth  his  outfits  for  a  Continental  tour  were  in  character. 
"  I  shall  carry  just  £33  to  France,"  said  he,  "  with  good 
store  of  clothes,  shirts,  &c.,  and  that  with  economy  will  5 
suffice."  He  forgot  to  make  mention  of  his  flute,  which  it 
will  be  found  had  occasionally  to  come  in  play  when  econ- 
omy could  not  replenish  his  purse,  nor  philosophy  find  him 
a  supper.  Thus  slenderly  provided  with  money,  prudence 
or  experience,  and  almost  as  slightly  guarded  against  "  hard  10 
knocks  "  as  the  hero  of  La  Mancha,  whose  head-piece  was 
half  iron,  half  pasteboard,  he  made  his  final  sally  forth  upon 
the  world ;  hoping  all  things ;  believing  all  things  :  little 
anticipating  the  checkered  ills  in  store  for  him  ;  little  think- 
ing when  he  penned  his  valedictory  letter  to  his  good  uncle  15 
Contarine,  that  he  was  never  to  see  him  more  ;  never  to 
return  after  all  his  wandering  to  the  friend  of  his  infancy; 
never  to  revisit  his  early  and  fondly  remembered  haunts  at 
"  sweet  Lissoy  "  and  Ballymahon. 


TOPICS   AND    QUESTIONS 

1.  Goldsmith's  residence  in  Scotland. 

2.  Early  instances  of  his  carelessness  in  money-matters. 

3.  Why  did  he  decide  to  go  to  the  Continent  ?     What  itinerary  did 
he  plan  for  himself?     Did  he  carry  out  his  plans?     [Glance  through 
subsequent  chapters.] 

4.  Why  is  it  an  "insupportable  drudgery"  to  flatter  our  "intimate 
acquaintances  "  ?     Is  flattery  ever  permissible  ?     What  is  the  sincerest 
flattery? 


CHAPTER   V 

The  agreeable  Fellow-Passengers  —  Risks  from  Friends  picked  up  by  the  Way- 
side—  Sketches  of  Holland  and  the  Dutch —  Shifts  while  a  poor  Student  at 
Leyden  —  The  Tulip-Speculation  —  The  provident  Flute  —  Sojourn  at  Paris 
—  Sketch  of  Voltaire — Travelling  Shifts  of  a  Philosophic  Vagabond. 

His  usual  indiscretion  attended  Goldsmith  at  the  very 
outset  of  his  foreign  enterprise.  He  had  intended  to  take 
shipping  at  Leith  for  Holland ;  but  on  arriving  at  that  port, 
he  found  a  ship  about  to  sail  for  Bordeaux,  with  six  agree- 
5  able  passengers,  whose  acquaintance  he  had  probably  made 
at  the  inn.  He  was  not  a  man  to  resist  a  sudden  impulse; 
so,  instead  of  embarking  for  Holland,  he  found  himself 
ploughing  the  seas  on  his  way  to  the  other  side  of  the  conti- 
nent. Scarcely  had  the  ship  been  two  days  at  sea,  when  she 

10  was  driven  by  stress  of  weather  to  Newcastle-upon-Tyne. 
Here  "  of  course "  Goldsmith  and  his  agreeable  fellow- 
passengers  found  it  expedient  to  go  on  shore  and  "refresh 
themselves  after  the  fatigues  of  the  voyage."  "  Of  course  " 
they  frolicked  and  made  merry  until  a  late  hour  in  the  even- 

15  ing,  when,  in  the  midst  of  their  hilarity,  the  door  was  burst 
open,  and  a  sergeant  and  twelve  grenadiers  entered  with  fixed 
bayonets,  and  took  the  whole  convivial  party  prisoners. 

It  seems  that  the  agreeable  companions  with  whom  our 
greenhorn  had  struck  up  such  a  sudden  intimacy,  were 

20  Scotchmen  in  the  French  service,  who  had  been  in  Scotland 
enlisting  recruits  for  the  French  army. 

In  vain  Goldsmith  protested  his  innocence ;  he  was 
marched  off  with  his  fellow-revellers  to  prison,  whence 
he  with  difficulty  obtained  his  release  at  the  end  of  a  fort- 

25  night.   With  his  customary  facility,  however,  at  palliating  his 

5° 


SKETCHES    OF    HOLLAND  51 

misadventures,  he  found  everything  turn  out  for  the  best. 
His  imprisonment  saved  his  life,  for  during  his  detention 
the  ship  proceeded  on  her  voyage,  but  was  wrecked  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Garonne,  and  all  on  board  perished. 

Goldsmith's  second  embarkation  was  for  Holland  direct,    5 
and  in  nine  days  he  arrived  at  Rotterdam,  whence  he  pro- 
ceeded, without  any  more  deviations,  to  Leyden.     He  gives 
a  whimsical  picture,  in  one  of  his  letters,  of  the  appearance 
of   the   Hollanders.     "The  modern   Dutchman    is  quite  a 
different  creature  from  him  of  former  times  :  he  in  every-  10 
thing  imitates  a  Frenchman  but  in  his  easy,  disengaged  air. 
He  is  vastly  ceremonious,  and  is,  perhaps,  exactly  what  a 
Frenchman  might  have  been  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV. 
Such  are  the  better  bred.     But  the  downright  Hollander  is 
one  of  the  oddest  figures  in  nature.     Upon  a  lank  head  of  15 
hair  he  wears  a  half-cocked  narrow  hat  laced  with  black 
ribband ;   no   coat,   but  seven   waistcoats  and  nine  pair  of 
breeches,  so  that  his  hips  reach  up  almost  to  his  armpits. 
This  well-clothed  vegetable  is  now  fit  to  see  company  or 
make  love.     But  what  a  pleasing  creature  is  the  object  of  20 
his  appetite !  why,  she  wears  a  large  fur  cap,  with  a  deal 
of  Flanders  lace  ;  and  for  every  pair  of  breeches  he  carries, 
she  puts  on  two  petticoats. 

"A    Dutch    lady   burns    nothing    about    her   phlegmatic 
admirer  but  his  tobacco.     You  must  know,  sir,  every  woman  25 
carries  in  her  hand  a  stove  of  coals,  which,  when  she  sits, 
she  snugs  under  her  petticoats,  and  at  this  chimney,  dozing 
Strephon  lights  his  pipe." 

In  the  same  letter  he  contrasts  Scotland  and  Holland. 
"  There,  hills  and  rocks  intercept  every  prospect ;  here,  it  is  3° 
all  a  continued  plain.  There  you  might  see  a  well-dressed 
Duchess  issuing  from  a  dirty  close,  and  here  a  dirty  Dutch- 
man inhabiting  a  palace.  The  Scotch  may  be  compared  to 
a  tulip,  planted  in  dung;  but  I  can  never  see  a  Dutchman 


52  OLIVER    GOLDSMITH 

in  his  own  house,  but  1   think  of  a  magnificent  Egyptian 
temple  dedicated  to  an  ox." 

The  country  itself  awakened  his  admiration.  "Nothing," 
said  he,  "  can  equal  its  beauty ;  wherever  I  turn  my  eyes, 
5  fine  houses,  elegant  gardens,  statues,  grottos,  vistas,  pre- 
sent themselves ;  but  when  you  enter  their  towns,  you  are 
charmed  beyond  description.  No  misery  is  to  be  seen  here  ; 
every  one  is  usefully  employed."  And  again,  in  his  noble 
description  in  "  The  Traveller  "  :  — 

10  "To  men  of  other  minds  my  fancy  flies, 

Imbosom'd  in  the  deep  where  Holland  lies. 
Methinks  her  patient  sons  before  me  stand, 
Where  the  broad  ocean  leans  against  the  land, 
And,  sedulous  to  stop  the  coming  tide, 

1 5  Lift  the  tall  rampire's  artificial  pride. 

Onward,  methinks,  and  diligently  slow, 
The  firm  connected  bulwark  seems  to  grow ; 
Spreads  its  long  arms  amid  the  watery  roar, 
Scoops  out  an  empire,  and  usurps  the  shore. 

20  While  the  pent  ocean,  rising  o'er  the  pile, 

Sees  an  amphibious  world  before  him  smile : 
The  slow  canal,  the  yellow  blossom'd  vale, 
The  willow-tufted  bank,  the  gliding  sail, 
The  crowded  mart,  the  cultivated  plain, 

25  A  new  creation  rescued  from  his  reign." 

He  remained  about  a  year  at  Leyden,  attending  the 
lectures  of  Gaubius  on  chemistry  and  Albinus  on  anatomy  ; 
though  his  studies  are  said  to  have  been  miscellaneous,  and 
directed  to  literature  rather  than  science.  The  thirty-three 

30  pounds  with  which  he  had  set  out  on  his  travels  were  soon 
consumed,  and  he  was  put  to  many  a  shift  to  meet  his 
expenses  until  his  precarious  remittances  should  arrive.  He 
had  a  good  friend  on  these  occasions  in  a  fellow-student  and 
countryman,  named  Ellis,  who  afterwards  rose  to  eminence 

35  as  a  physician.      He  used  frequently  to  loan  small  sums  to 


SHIFTS   AS  A   STl'DHVl  53 

Goldsmith,  which  were  always  scrupulously  paid.  Ellis  dis- 
covered the  innate  merits  of  the  poor  awkward  student,  and 
used  to  declare  in  after-life  that  "  it  was  a  common  remark 
in  Leyden,  that  in  all  the  peculiarities  of  Goldsmith,  an  ele- 
vation of  mind  was  to  be  noted  ^  a  philosophical  tone  and  5 
manner ;  the  feelings  of  a  gentleman,  and  the  language  and 
information  of  a  scholar." 

Sometimes,  in  his  emergencies,  Goldsmith   undertook  to 
teach  the  English  language.     It  is  true  he  was  ignorant  of 
the  Dutch,  but  he  had  a  smattering  of  the  French,  picked  10 
up  among  the  Irish  priests  at  Ballymahon.     He  depicts  his 
whimsical  embarrassment  in  this  respect,  in  his  account  in 
the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  of  the  philosophical  vagabond  who 
went  to  Holland  to  teach  the  natives  English,  without  know- 
ing a  word  of  their  own  language.     Sometimes,  when  sorely  15 
pinched,  and  sometimes,  perhaps,  when  flush,  he  resorted 
to  the  gambling-tables,  which   in   those  days  abounded  in 
Holland.     His   good   friend    Ellis    repeatedly  warned  him 
against  this  unfortunate  propensity,  but  in  vain.     It  brought 
its  own  cure,  or  rather  its  own  punishment,  by  stripping  him  20 
of  every  shilling. 

Ellis  once  more  stepped  in  to  his  relief  with  a  true  Irish- 
man's generosity,  but  with  more  considerateness  than  gen- 
erally characterizes  an  Irishman,  for  he  only  granted  pecu- 
niary aid  on  condition  of  his  quitting  the  sphere  of  danger.  25 
Goldsmith  gladly  consented  to  leave  Holland,  being  anxious 
to  visit  other  parts.  He  intended  to  proceed  to  Paris  and 
pursue  his  studies  there,  and  was  furnished  by  his  friend 
with  money  for  the  journey.  Unluckily,  he  rambled  into 
the  garden  of  a  florist  just  before  quitting  Leyden.  The  30 
tulip-mania  was  still  prevalent  in  Holland,  and  some  spe- 
cies of  that  splendid  flower  brought  immense  prices.  In 
wandering  through  the  garden,  Goldsmith  recollected  that  his 
uncle  Contarine  was  a  tulip-fancier.  The  thought  suddenly 


54  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

struck  him  that  here  was  an  opportunity  of  testifying,  in 
a  delicate  manner,  his  sense  of  that  generous  uncle's  past 
kindnesses.  In  an  instant  his  hand  was  in  his  pocket  ;  a 
number  of  choice  and  costly  tulip-roots  were  purchased  and 
5  packed  up  for  Mr.  Contarine  ;  and  it  was  not  until  he  had 
paid  for  them  that  he  bethought  himself  that  he  had  spent 
all  the  money  borrowed  for  his  travelling  expenses.  Too 
proud,  however,  to  give  up  his  journey,  and  too  shamefaced 
to  make  another  appeal  to  his  friend's  liberality,  he  deter- 

10  mined  to  travel  on  foot,  and  depend  upon  chance  and  good 

luck  for  the  means  of  getting  forward  ;  and  it  is  said  that 

he  actually  set  off  on  a  tour  of  the  Continent,  in  February, 

1755,  with  but  one  spare  shirt,  a  flute,  and  a  single  guinea. 

"Blessed,"  says  one   of  his   biographers,  "with   a  good 

15  constitution,  an  adventurous  spirit,  and  with  that  thought- 
less, or,  perhaps,  happy  disposition  which  takes  no  care  for 
to-morrow,  he  continued  his  travels  for  a  long  time  in  spite 
of  innumerable  privations."  In  his  amusing  narrative  of 
the  adventures  of  a  "  Philosophic  Vagabond  "  in  the  "  Vicar 

20  of  Wakefield,"  we  find  shadowed  out  the  expedients  he  pur- 
sued. "  I  had  some  knowledge  of  music,  with  a  tolerable 
voice  ;  I  now  turned  what  was  once  my  amusement  into  a 
present  means  of  subsistence.  I  passed  among  the  harm- 
less peasants  of  Flanders,  and  among  such  of  the  French 

25  as  were  poor  enough  to  be  very  merry,  for  I  ever  found 
them  sprightly  in  proportion  to  their  wants.  Whenever  I 
approached  a  peasant's  house  towards  nightfall,  I  played  one 
of  my  merriest  tunes,  and  that  procured  me  not  only  a 'lodg- 
ing, but  subsistence  for  the  next  day  ;  but  in  truth  I  must 

30 'own,  whenever  I  attempted  to  entertain  persons  of  a  higher 
rank,  they  always  thought  my  performance  odious,  and  never 
made  me  any  return  for  my  endeavors  to  please  them." 

At  Paris  he  attended  the  chemical  lectures  of    Rouelle, 
then  in  great  vogue,  where  he  says  he  witnessed  as  bright 


SKETCH    OF  VOLTAIRE  55 

a  circle  of  beauty  as  graced  the  court  of  Versailles.  His 
love  of  theatricals  also  led  him  to  attend  the  performances 
of  the  celebrated  actress  Mademoiselle  Clairon,  with  which 
he  was  greatly  delighted.  He  seems  to  have  looked  upon 
the  state  of  society  with  the  eye  of  a  philosopher,  but  to  5 
have  read  the  signs  of  the  times  with  the  prophetic  eye  of 
a  poet.  In  his  rambles  about  the  environs  of  Paris  he  was 
struck  with  the  immense  quantities  of  game  running  about 
almost  in  a  tame  state  ;  and  saw  in  those  costly  and  rigid 
preserves  for  the  amusement  and  luxury  of  the  privileged  10 
few,  a  sure  "badge  of  the  slavery  of  the  people."  This  slav- 
ery he  predicted  was  drawing  towards  a  close.  "  When  I 
consider  that  these  parliaments,  the  members  of  which  are 
all  created  by  the  court,  and  the  presidents  of  which  can 
only  act  by  immediate  direction,  presume  even  to  mention  15 
privileges  and  freedom,  who  till  of  late  received  directions 
"from  the  throne  with  implicit  humility  ;  when  this  is  con- 
sidered. I  cannot  help  fancying  that  the  genius  of  Freedom 
has  entered  that  kingdom  in  disguise.  If  they  have  but 
three  weak  monarchs  more  successively  on  the  throne,  the  20 
mask  will  be  laid  aside,  and  the  country  will  certainly  once 
more  be  free."  Events  have  testified  to  the  sage  forecast  of 
the  poet. 

During  a  brief  sojourn  in  Paris,  he  appears  to  have  gained 
access  to  valuable  society,  and  to  have  had  the  honor  and  25 
pleasure  of  making  the  acquaintance  of  Voltaire ;  of  whom, 
in  after-years,  he  wrote  a  memoir.  "  As  a  companion,"  says 
he,  "  no  man  ever  exceeded  him  when  he  pleased  to  lead 
the  conversation  ;  which,  however,  was  not  always  the  case. 
In  company  which  he  either  disliked  or  despised,  few  could  30 
be  more  reserved  than  he ;  but  when  he  was  warmed  in  dis- 
course, and  got  over  a  hesitating  manner,  which  sometimes 
he  was  subject  to,  it  was  rapture  to  hear  him.  His  meagre 
visage  seemed  insensibly  to  gather  beauty  :  every  muscle  in 


56  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

it  had  meaning,  and  his  eye  beamed  with  unusual  bright- 
ness. The  person  who  writes  this  memoir,"  continues  he, 
"  remembers  to  have  seen  him  in  a  select  company  of  wits 
of  both  sexes  at  Paris,  when  the  subject  happened  to  turn 
5  upon  English  taste  and  learning.  Fontenelle,  (then  nearly 
a  hundred  years  old),  who  was  of  the  party,  and  who  being 
unacquainted  with  the  language  or  authors  of  the  country 
he  undertook  to  condemn,  with  a  spirit  truly  vulgar  began 
to  revile  both.  Diderot,  who  liked  the  English,  and  knew 

10  something  of  their  literary  pretensions,  attempted  to  vindi- 
cate their  poetry  and  learning,  but  with  unequal  abilities. 
The  company  quickly  perceived  that  Fontenelle  was  superior 
in  the  dispute,  and  were  surprised  at  the  silence  which  Vol- 
taire had  preserved  all  the  former  part  of  the  night,  particu- 

15  larly  as  the  conversation  happened  to  turn  upon  one  of  his 
favorite  topics.  Fontenelle  continued  his  triumph  until  about 
twelve  o'clock,  when  Voltaire  appeared  at  last  roused  from 
his  reverie.  His  whole  frame  seemed  animated.  He  began 
his  defence  with  the  utmost  defiance  mixed  with  spirit,  and 

20  now  and  then  let  fall  the  finest  strokes  of  raillery  upon  his 
antagonist ;  and  his  harangue  lasted  till  three  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  must  confess,  that,  whether  from  national  partiality, 
or  from  the  elegant  sensibility  of  his  manner,  I  never  was  so 
charmed,  nor  did  I  ever  remember  so  absolute  a  victory  as  he 

25  gained  in  this  dispute."     Goldsmith's  ramblings  took  him 

into  Germany  and  Switzerland,  from  which  last-mentioned 

country  he  sent  to  his  brother  in  Ireland  the  first  brief  sketch, 

afterwards  amplified  into  his  poem  of  "  The  Traveller." 

At  Geneva  he  became  travelling  tutor  to  a  mongrel  young 

30  gentleman,  son  of  a  London  pawnbroker,  who  had  been  sud- 
denly elevated  into  fortune  and  absurdity  by  the  death  of  an 
uncle.  The  youth,  before  setting  up  for  a  gentleman,  had 
been  an  attorney's  apprentice,  and  was  an  arrant  pettifogger 
in  money-matters.  Never  were  two  beings  more  illy  assorted 


TRAVELLING    SHIFTS 


57 


than  he  and  Goldsmith.  We  may  form  an  idea  of  the  tutor 
and  the  pupil  from  the  following  extract  from  the  narrative 
of  the  "  Philosophic  Vagabond." 

"  I  was  to  be  the  young  gentleman's  governor,  but  with  a 
proviso  that  he  could  always  be  permitted  to  govern  himself.  5 
My  pupil,  in  fact,  understood  the  art  of  guiding  in  money- 
concerns  much  better  than  I.  He  was  heir  to  a  fortune  of 
about  two  hundred  thousand  pounds,  left  him  by  an  uncle  in 
the  West  Indies ;  and  his  guardians,  to  qualify  him  for  the 
management  of  it,  had  bound  him  apprentice  to  an  attorney.  10 
Thus  avarice  was  his  prevailing  passion  ;  all  his  questions  on 
the  road  were,  how  money  might  be  saved,  —  which  was  the 
least  expensive  course  of  travel,  —  whether  anything  could 
be  bought  that  would  turn  to  account  when  disposed  of  again 
in  London?  Such  curiosities  on  the  way  as  could  be  seen  15 
for  nothing  he  was  ready  enough  to  look  at ;  but  if  the  sight 
of  them  was  to  be  paid  for,  he  usually  asserted  that  he  had 
been  told  that  they  were  not  worth  seeing.  He  never  paid 
a  bill  that  he  would  not  observe  how  amazingly  expensive 
travelling  was  ;  and  all  this  though  not  yet  twenty-one."  20 

In  this  sketch  Goldsmith  undoubtedly  shadows  forth  his 
annoyances  as  travelling  tutor  to  this  concrete  young  gentle- 
man, compounded  of  the  pawnbroker,  the  pettifogger,  and 
the  West  Indian  heir,  with  an  overlaying  of  the  city  miser. 
They  had  continual  difficulties  on  all  points  of  expense  until  25 
they  reached  Marseilles,  where  both  were  glad  to  separate. 

Once  more  on  foot,  but  freed  from  the  irksome  duties  of 
"bear-leader,"  and  with  some  of  his  pay,  as  tutor,  in  his 
pocket,  Goldsmith  continued  his  half  vagrant  peregrinations 
through  part  of  France  and  Piedmont  and  some  of  the  Ital-  30 
ian  States.  He  had  acquired,  as  has  been  shown,  a  habit 
of  shifting  along  and  living  by  expedients,  and  a  new  one 
presented  itself  in  Italy.  "  My  skill  in  music,"  says  he,  in 
the  "  Philosophic  Vagabond,"  "could  avail  me  nothing  in  a 


58  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

country  where  every  peasant  was  a  better  musician  than  I ; 
but  by  this  time  I  had  acquired  another  talent,  which  answered 
my  purpose  as  well,  and  this  was  a  skill  in  disputation.  In  all 
the  foreign  universities  and  convents  there  are,  upon  certain 
5  days,  philosophical  theses  maintained  against  every  adventi- 
tious disputant,  for  which,  if  the  champion  opposes  with  any 
dexterity,  he  can  claim  a  gratuity  in  money,  a  dinner,  and 
a  bed  for  one  night."  Though  a  poor  wandering  scholar, 
his  reception  in  these  learned  piles  was  as  free  from  humili- 
10  ation  as  in  the  cottages  of  the  peasantry.  "With  the  mem- 
bers of  these  establishments,"  said  he,  "  I  could  converse  on 
topics  of  literature,  and  then  I  always  forgot  the  meanness  of 
my  circumstances." 

At  Padua,  where  he  remained  some  months,  he  is  said 
15  to  have  taken  his  medical  degree.     It  is  probable  he  was 
brought  to  a  pause  in  this  city  by  the  illness  of  his  uncle 
Contarine  ;  who  had  hitherto  assisted  him  in  his  wander- 
ings by  occasional,  though,  of  course,  slender  remittances. 
Deprived  of  this  source  of  supplies,  he  wrote  to  his  friends 
20  in   Ireland,  and   especially   to    his   brother-in-law,   Hodson, 
describing  his  destitute  situation.      His  letters  brought  him 
neither  money  nor  reply.     It  appears,  from  subsequent  cor- 
respondence, that  his  brother-in-law  actually  exerted  himself 
to  raise  a  subscription  for  his  assistance  among  his  rela- 
25  tives,  friends,  and  acquaintance,  but  without  success.     Their 
faith  and  hope  in  him  were  most  probably  at  an  end;  as 
yet  he  had  disappointed  them  at  every  point,  he  had  given 
none  of  the  anticipated  proofs  of  talent,  and  they  were  too 
poor  to  support  what  they  may  have  considered  the  wan- 
jo  dering  propensities  of  a  heedless  spendthrift. 

Thus  left  to  his  own  precarious  resources,  Goldsmith  gave 
up  all  further  wandering  in  Italy,  without  visiting  the  south, 
though  Rome  and  Naples  must  have  held  out  powerful  attrac- 
tions to  one  of  his  poetical  cast.  Once  more  resuming  his 


HIS    MAGIC    FLUTE 


59 


pilgrim  staff,  he  turned  his  face  toward  England,  "walking 
along  from  city  to  city,  examining  mankind  more  nearly,  and 
seeing  both  sides  of  the  picture."  In  traversing  France  his 
flute  —  his  magic  flute  !  —  was  once  more  in  requisition,  as  we 
may  conclude  by  the  following  passage  in  his  "  Traveller  " :  —  5 

"  Gay,  sprightly  land  of  mirth  and  social  ease, 
Pleased  with  thyself,  whom  all  the  world  can  please, 
How  often  have  I  led  thy  sportive  choir 
With  tuneless  pipe  beside  the  murmuring  Loire! 
Where  shading  elms  along  the  margin  grew,  10 

And  freshened  from  the  wave  the  zephyr  flew ; 
And  haply  though  my  harsh  note  falt'ring  still, 
But  mocked  all  tune,  and  marr'd  the  dancer's  skill ; 
Yet  would  the  village  praise  my  wondrous  power, 
And  dance  forgetful  of  the  noontide  hour.  15 

Alike  all  ages :   Dames  of  ancient  days 
Have  led  their  children  through  the  mirthful  maze, 
And  the  gay  grandsire,  skill'd  in  gestic  lore, 
Has  frisk'd  beneath  the  burden  of  three-score." 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Goldsmith's  improvidence  in  Holland. 

2.  His  experiences  as  tutor  to  the  stingy  young  man. 

3.  Prepare  a  derailed  outline  for  a  composition  on  his  two  years  of 
roving  about  the  Continent.     Will  it  be  better  to  adopt  a  time  succession 
or  a  place-  order  in  dividing  the  subject  ? 

4.  How  did  his  imprisonment  in  Newcastle-upon-Tyne  save  his  life  ? 

5.  What  is  Irving's  purpose  in  closing  the  chapter  with  a  quotation  ? 
Why  do  many  compositions  by  students,  and  essays  or  orations  by  well- 
known  writers  or  speakers  end  with  quotations  of  poetry  ?     Is  the  prac- 
tice one  to  be  commended  ? 


CHAPTER    VI 

landing  in  England  —  Shifts  of  a  Man  without  Money  —  The  Pestle  and 
Mortar  —  Theatricals  in  a  Barn  —  Launch  upon  London  —  A  City  Night- 
Scene —  Struggles  with  Penury  —  Miseries  of  a  Tutor  —  A  Doctor  in  the 
Suburb — Poor  Practice  and  second-hand  Finery  —  A  Tragedy  in  Embryo 
—  Project  of  the  Written  Mountains. 

After  two  years  spent  in  roving  about  the  Continent,  "  pur- 
suing novelty,"  as  he  said,  "and  losing  content,"  Goldsmith 
landed  at  Dover  early  in  1756.  He  appears  to  have  had  no 
definite  plan  of  action.  The  death  of  his  uncle  Contarine, 
5  and  the  neglect  of  his  relatives  and  friends  to  reply  to  his 
letters,  seem  to  have  produced  in  him  a  temporary  feeling  of 
loneliness  and  destitution,  and  his  only  thought  was  to  get 
to  London,  and  throw  himself  upon  the  world.  But  how 
was  he  to  get  there  ?  His  purse  was  empty.  England  was 

10  to  him  as  completely  a  foreign  land  as  any  part  of  the  Con- 
tinent, and  where  on  earth  is  a  penniless  stranger  more 
destitute  ?  His  flute  and  his  philosophy  were  no  longer  of 
any  avail ;  the  English  boors  cared  nothing  for  music  ;  there 
were  no  convents ;  and  as  to  the  learned  and  the  clergy,  not 

15  one  of  them  would  give  a  vagrant  scholar  a  supper  and 
night's  lodging  for  the  best  thesis  that  ever  was  argued. 
"  You  may  easily  imagine,"  says  he,  in  a  subsequent  letter 
to  his  brother-in-law,  "what  difficulties  I  had  to  encounter, 
left  as  I  was  without  friends,  recommendations,  money,  or 

20  impudence,  and  that  in  a  country  where  being  born  an  Irish- 
man was  sufficient  to  keep  me  unemployed.  Many,  in  such 
circumstances,  would  have  had  recourse  to  the  friar's  cord 
or  the  suicide's  halter.  But,  with  all  my  follies,  I  had  prin- 
ciple to  resist  the  one,  and  resolution  to  combat  the  other." 

60 


LAUNCH    UPON    LONDON  6l 

He  applied  at  one  place,  \ve  are  told,  for  employment 
in  the  shop  of  a  country  apothecary;  but  all  his  medical 
science  gathered  in  foreign  universities  could  not  gain  him 
the  management  of  a  pestle  and  mortar.  He  even  resorted, 
it  is  said,  to  the  stage  as  a  temporary  expedient,  and  figured  5 
in  low  comedy  at  a  country  town  in  Kent.  This  accords 
with  his  last  shift  of  the  Philosophic  Vagabond,  and  with  the 
knowledge  of  country  theatricals  displayed  in  his  "Adven- 
tures of  a  Strolling  Player,"  or  may  be  a  story  suggested  by 
them.  All  this  part  of  his  career,  however,  in  which  he  10 
must  have  trod  the  lowest  paths  of  humility,  are  only  to 
be  conjectured  from  vague  traditions,  or  scraps  of  autobi- 
ography gleaned  from  his  miscellaneous  writings. 

At  length  we  find  him  launched  on  the  great  metropolis, 
or  rather  drifting  about  its  streets,  at  night,  in  the  gloomy  15 
month  of  February,  with  but  a  few  half-pence  in  his  pocket. 
The  Deserts  of  Arabia  are  not  more  dreary  and  inhospitable 
than  the  streets  of  London  at  such  a  time,  and  to  a  stranger 
in  such  a  plight.     Uo  we  want  a  picture  as  an  illustration? 
We  have  it  in  his  own  works,  and  furnished,  doubtless,  from  20 
his  own  experience. 

"  The  clock  has  just  struck  two ;  what  a  gloom  hangs  all 
around !  no  sound  is  heard  but  of  the  chiming  clock,  or  the 
distant  watch-dog.  How  few  appear  in  those  streets,  which 
but  some  few  hours  ago  were  crowded !  But  who  are  those  25 
who  make  the  streets  their  couch,  and  find  a  short  repose 
from  wretchedness  at  the  doors  of  the  opulent?  They  are 
strangers,  wanderers,  and  orphans,  whose  circumstances  are 
too  humble  to  expect  redress,  and  whose  distresses  are  too 
great  even  for  pity.  Some  are  without  the  covering  even  of  30 
rags,  and  others  emaciated  with  disease ;'  the  world  has  dis- 
claimed them  ;  society  turns  its  back  upon  their  distress, 
and  has  given  them  up  to  nakedness  and  hunger.  These 
poor  shivering  females  hare  once  seen  happier  tftivs,  anJ  been 


62  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

flattered  into  beauty.     They  are  now  turned  out  to  meet  the 

severity  of  winter.     Perhaps  now,  lying  at  the  doors  of  their 

betrayers,  they  sue  to  wretches  whose  hearts  are  insensible, 

or  debauchees  who  may  curse,  but  will  not  relieve,  them. 

5       "  Why,  why  was  I  born  a  man,  and  yet  see  the  sufferings  of 

wretches  I  cannot  relieve  !     Poor  houseless  creatures !     The 

world  will  give  you  reproaches,  but  will  not  give  you  relief." 

Poor  houseless  Goldsmith!  we  may  here   ejaculate  —  to 

what  shifts  he  must  have  been  driven  to  find  shelter  and 

10  sustenance  for  himself  in  this  his  first  venture  into  London  ! 
Many  years  afterwards,  in  the  days  of  his  social  elevation, 
he  startled  a  polite  circle  at  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's  by 
humorously  dating  an  anecdote  about  the  time  he  "  lived 
among  the  beggars  of  Axe  Lane."  Such  may  have  been 

15  the  desolate  quarters  with  which  he  was  fain  to  content 
himself  when  thus  adrift  upon  the  town,  with  but  a  few 
half-pence  in  his  pocket. 

The  first  authentic  trace  we  have  of  him  in  this  new  part 
of  his  career,  is  filling  the  situation  of  an  usher  to  a  school. 

20  and  even  this  employ  he  obtained  with  some  difficulty,  after 
a  reference  for  a  character  to  his  friends  in  the  University 
of  Dublin.  In  the  "Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  he  makes  George 
Primrose  undergo  a  whimsical  catechism  concerning  the 
requisites  for  an  usher.  "  Have  you  been  bred  apprentice 

25  to  the  business?  "  "  No."  "  Then  you  won't  do  for  a  school. 
Can  you  dress  the  boys'  hair  ?  "  "  No."  "  Then  you  won't 
do  for  a  school.  Can  you  lie  three  in  a  bed  ?  "  "  No." 
"Then  you  will  never  do  for  a  school.  Have  you  a  good 
stomach  ?  "  "  Yes."  "  Then  you  will  by  no  means  do  for  a 

30  school.  I  have  been  an  usher  in  a  boarding-school,  myself, 
and  may  I  die  of  an  anodyne  necklace,  but  I  had  rather 
be  under-turnkey  in  Newgate.  I  was  up  early  and  late  :  I 
was  browbeat  by  the  master,  hated  for  my  ugly  face  by  the 
mistress,  worried  by  the  boys," 


DOCTOR    IN    THE   SUBURB  63 

Goldsmith  remained  but  a  short  time  in  this  situation, 
and  to  the  mortifications  experienced  there  we  doubtless 
owe  the  picturings  given  in  his  writings  of  the  hardships  of 
an  usher's  life.  "  He  is  generally,"  says  he,  "the  laughing- 
stock of  the  school.  Every  trick  is  played  upon  him  ;  the  5 
oddity  of  his  manner,  his  dress,  or  his  language,  is  a  fund 
of  eternal  ridicule ;  the  master  himself  now  and  then  cannot 
avoid  joining  in  the  laugh;  and  the  poor  wretch,  eternally 
resenting  this  ill-usage,  lives  in  a  state  of  war  with  all  the 
family."  ...  "  He  is  obliged,  perhaps,  to  sleep  in  the  10 
same  bed  with  the  French  teacher,  who  disturbs  him  for  an 
hour  every  night  in  papering  and  filleting  his  hair,  and 
stinks  worse  than  a  carrion  with  his  rancid  pomatums,  when 
he  lays  his  head  beside  him  on  the  bolster." 

His  next  shift  was  as  assistant  in  the  laboratory  of  a  15 
chemist  near  Fish-Street  Hill.  After  remaining  here  a  few 
months,  he  heard  that  Dr.  Sleigh,  who  had  been  his  friend 
and  fellow-student  at  Edinburgh,  was  in  London.  Eager  to 
meet  with  a  friendly  face  in  this  land  of  strangers,  he 
immediately  called  on  him  ;  "  but  though  it  was  Sunday,  20 
and  it  is  to  be  supposed  I  was  in  my  best  clothes,  Sleigh 
scarcely  knew  me  —  such  is  the  tax  the  unfortunate  pay  to 
poverty.  However,  when  he  did  recollect  me,  I  found  his 
heart  as  warm  as  ever,  and  he  shared  his  purse  and  friend- 
ship with  me  during  his  continuance  in  London."  25 

Through  the  advice  and  assistance  of  Dr.  Sleigh,  he  now 
commenced  the  practice  of  medicine,  but  in  a  small  way, 
in  Bankside,  Southwark,  and  chiefly  among  the  poor ;  for 
he  wanted  the  figure,  address,  polish,  and  management,  to 
succeed  among  the  rich.  His  old  schoolmate  and  college  30 
companion,  Beatty,  who  used  to  aid  him  with  his  purse  at 
the  university,  met  him  about  this  time,  decked  out  in  the 
tarnished  finery  of  a  second-hand  suit  of  green  and  gold, 
with  a  shirt  and  neckcloth  of  a  fortnight's  wear. 


64  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

Poor  Goldsmith  endeavored  to  assume  a  prosperous  air 
in  the  eyes  of  his  early  associate.  "  He  was  practising 
physic,"  he  said,  "and  doing  very  well!"  At  this  moment 
poverty  was  pinching  him  to  the  bone  in  spite  of  his  practice 
5  and  his  dirty  finery.  His  fees  were  necessarily  small  and 
ill  paid,  and  he  was  fain  to  seek  some  precarious  assistance 
from  his  pen.  Here  his  quondam  fellow-student,  Dr.  Sleigh, 
was  again  of  service,  introducing  him  to  some  of  the  book- 
sellers, who  gave  him  occasional,  though  starveling,  employ- 

10  ment.  According  to  tradition,  however,  his  most  efficient 
patron  just  now  was  a  journeyman  printer,  one  of  his  poor 
patients  of  Bankside,  who  had  formed  a  good  opinion  of  his 
talents,  and  perceived  his  poverty  and  his  literary  shifts. 
The  printer  was  in  the  employ  of  Mr.  Samuel  Richardson, 

15  the  author  of  "  Pamela,"  "Clarissa,"  and  "Sir  Charles 
Grandison";  who  combined  the  novelist  and  the  publisher, 
and  was  in  flourishing  circumstances.  Through  the  jour- 
neyman's intervention  Goldsmith  is  said  to  have  become 
acquainted  with  Richardson,  who  employed  him  as  reader 

20  and  corrector  of  the  press,  at  his  printing  establishment  in 
Salisbury  Court,  —  an  occupation  which  he  alternated  with 
his  medical  duties. 

Being   admitted  occasionally   to  Richardson's  parlor,  he 
began  to  form  literary  acquaintances,  among  whom  the  most 

25  important  was  Dr.  Young,  the  author  of  "  Night  Thoughts," 
a  poem  in  the  height  of  fashion.  It  is  not  probable,  how- 
ever, that  much  familiarity  took  place  at  the  time  between 
the  literary  lion  of  the  day  and  the  poor  /Esculapius  of 
Bankside,  the  humble  corrector  of  the  press.  Still  .the 

30  communion  with  literary  men  had  its  effect  to  set  his  imagi- 
nation teeming.  Dr.  Farr,  one  of  his  Edinburgh  fellow- 
students,  who  was  at  London  about  this  time,  attending 
the  hospitals  and  lectures,  gives  us  an  amusing  account  of 
Goldsmith  in  his  literarv  character. 


THE   WRITTEN    MOUNTAINS  65 

"  Early  in  January  he  called  upon  me  one  morning  before 
I  was  up,  and,  on  my  entering  the  room,  I  recognized  my 
old  acquaintance,  dressed  in  a  rusty,  full-trimmed  black  suit, 
with  his  pockets  full  of  papers,  which  instantly  reminded  me 
of  the  poet  in  Garrick's  farce  of  'Lethe.'  After  we  had  5 
finished  our  breakfast,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  part  of  a 
tragedy,  which  he  said  he  had  brought  for  my  correction. 
In  vain  I  pleaded  inability,  when  he  began  to  read ;  and 
every  part  on  which  I  expressed  a  doubt  as  to  the  propriety 
was  immediately  blotted  out.  I  then  most  earnestly  pressed  10 
him  not  to  trust  to  my  judgment,  but  to  take  the  opinion  of 
persons  better  qualified  to  decide  on  dramatic  compositions. 
He  now  told  me  he  had  submitted  his  production,  so  far  as 
he  had  written,  to  Mr.  Richardson,  the  author  of  '  Clarissa,' 
on  which  I  peremptorily  declined  offering  another  criticism  15 
on  the  performance." 

From  the  graphic  description  given  of  him  by  Dr.  Farr, 
it  will  be  perceived  that  the  tarnished  finery  of  green  and 
gold  had  been  succeeded  by  a  professional  suit  of  black, 
to  which,  we  are  told,  were  added  the  wig  and  cane  indis-  20 
pensable  to  medical  doctors  in  those  days.  The  coat  was 
a  second-hand  one,  of  rusty  velvet,  with  a  patch  on  the  left 
breast,  which  he  adroitly  covered  with  his  three-cornered 
hat  during  his  medical  visits;  and  we  have  an  amusing 
anecdote  of  his  contest  of  courtesy  with  a  patient  who  per-  25 
sisted  in  endeavoring  to  relieve  him  from  the  hat,  which 
only  made  him  press  it  more  devoutly  to  his  heart. 

Nothing  further  has  ever  been  heard  of  the  tragedy  men- 
tioned by  Dr.  Farr  ;  it  was  probably  never  completed.  The 
same  gentleman  speaks  of  a  strange  Quixotic  scheme  which  30 
Goldsmith  had  in  contemplation  at  the  time,  "of  going  to 
decipher  the  inscriptions  on  the  written  mountains,  though 
he  was  altogether  ignorant  of  Arabic,  or  the  language  in 
which  they  might  be  supposed  to  be  written.  "The  salary 


66  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

of  three  hundred  pounds,"  adds  Dr.  Farr,  "  which  had  been 
left  for  the  purpose,  was  the  temptation."  This  was  prob- 
ably one  of  many  dreamy  projects  with  which  his  fervid 
brain  was  apt  to  teem.  On  such  subjects  he  was  prone  to 
5  talk  vaguely  and  magnificently,  but  inconsiderately,  from  a 
kindled  imagination  rather  than  a  well-instructed  judgment. 
He  had  always  a  great  notion  of  expeditions  to  the  East,  and 
wonders  to  be  seen  and  effected  in  the  Oriental  countries. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Tell  vividly  about  Goldsmith's  "contest  of  courtesy"  with  the 
patient  who  wanted  to  relieve  him  of  his  hat.     In  your  narrative  make 
use  of  a  dialogue  between  the  patient  and  the  doctor. 

2.  Give  an  account  of  Goldsmith's  arrival  in  London. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Life  of  a  Pedagogue  —  Kindness  to  Schoolboys — Pertness  in  Return — Expen- 
sive Charities  —  The  Griffiths  and  the  "  Monthly  Review  "  —  Toils  of  a 
Literary  Hack —  Rupture  with  the  Griffiths. 

Among  the  most  cordial  of  Goldsmith's  intimates  in  Lon- 
don during  this  time  of  precarious  struggle,  were  certain  of 
his  former  fellow-students  in  Edinburgh.  One  of  these  was 
the  son  of  a  Dr.  Milner,  a  dissenting  minister,  who  kept  a 
classical  school  of  eminence  at  Peckham,  in  Surrey.  Young  5 
Milner  had  a  favorable  opinion  of  Goldsmith's  abilities  and 
attainments,  and  cherished  for  him  that  goodwill  which  his 
genial  nature  seems  ever  to  have  inspired  among  his  school 
and  college  associates.  His  father  falling  ill,  the  young 
man  negotiated  with  Goldsmith  to  take  temporary  charge  10 
of  the  school.  The  latter  readily  consented;  for  he  was 
discouraged  by  the  slow  growth  of  medical  reputation  and 
practice,  and  as  yet  had  no  confidence  in  the  coy  smiles 
of  the  Muse.  Laying  by  his  wig  and  cane,  therefore,  and 
once  more  wielding  the  ferule,  he  resumed  the  character  15 
of  the  pedagogue,  and  for  some  time  reigned  as  vicegerent 
over  the  academy  at  Peckham.  He  appears  to  have  been 
well  treated  by  both  Dr.  Milner  and  his  wife ;  and  became 
a  favorite  with  the  scholars  from  his  easy,  indulgent  good- 
nature. He  mingled  in  their  sports;  told  them  droll  stories;  20 
played  on  the  flute  for  their  amusement,  and  spent  his 
money  in  treating  them  to  sweetmeats  and  other  schoolboy 
dainties.  His  familiarity  was  sometimes  carried  too  far ; 
he  indulged  in  boyish  pranks  and  practical  jokes,  and  drew 
upon  himself  retorts  in  kind,  which,  however,  he  bore  with  25 
great  good-humor.  Once,  indeed,  he  was  touched  to  the 

67 


68  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

quick  by  a  piece  of  schoolboy  pertness.  After  playing*  on 
the  flute,  he  spoke  with  enthusiasm  of  music,  as  delightful 
in  itself,  and  as  a  valuable  accomplishment  for  a  gentleman, 
whereupon  a  youngster,  with  a  glance  at  his  ungainly  per- 
5  son,  wished  to  know  if  he  considered  himself  a  gentleman. 
Poor  Goldsmith,  feelingly  alive  to  the  awkwardness  of  his 
appearance  and  the  humility  of  his  situation,  winced  at  this 
unthinking  sneer,  which  long  rankled  in  his  mind. 

As  usual,  while  in  Dr.  Milner's  employ,  his  benevolent 

10  feelings  were  a  heavy  tax  upon  his  purse,  for  he  never  could 
resist  a  tale  of  distress,  and  was  apt  to  be  fleeced  by  every 
sturdy  beggar;  so  that,  between  his  charity  and  his  munifi- 
cence, he  was  generally  in  advance  of  his  slender  salary. 
"  You  had  better,  Mr.  Goldsmith,  let  me  take  care  of  your 

15  money,"  said  Mrs.  Milner  one  day,  "as  I  do  for  some  of 
the  young  gentlemen."  "  In  truth,  madam,  there  is  equal 
need  !  "  was  the  good-humored  reply. 

Dr.  Milner  was  a  man  of  some  literary  pretensions,  and 
wrote  occasionally  for  the  "  Monthly  Review,"  of  which  a 

20  bookseller,  by  the  name  of  Griffiths,  was  proprietor.  This 
work  was  an  advocate  for  Whig  principles,  and  had  been  in 
prosperous  existence  for  nearly  eight  years.  Of  late,  how- 
ever, periodicals  had  multiplied  exceedingly,  and  a  formi- 
dable Tory  rival  had  started  up  in  the  "  Critical  Review," 

25  published  by  Archibald  Hamilton,  a  bookseller,  and  aided 
by  the  powerful  and  popular  pen  of  Dr.  Smollett.  Griffiths 
was  obliged  to  recruit  his  forces.  While  so  doing  he  met 
Goldsmith,  a  humble  occupant  of  a  seat  at  Dr.  Milner's  table, 
and  was  struck  with  remarks  on  men  and  books,  which  fell 

30  from  him  in  the  course  of  conversation.  He  took  occasion 
to  sound  him  privately  as  to  his  inclination  and  capacity 
as  a  reviewer,  and  was  furnished  by  him  with  specimens  of 
his  literary  and  critical  talents.  They  proved  satisfactory. 
The  consequence  was  that  Goldsmith  once  more  changed 


LITERARY    HACK  69 

his  mode  ol"  life,  and  in  April,  1757,  became  a  contributor 
to  the  "  Monthly  Review,"  at  a  small  fixed  salary,  with 
board  and  lodging ;  and  accordingly  took  up  his  abode  with 
Mr.  Griffiths,  at  the  sign  of  the  Dunciad,  Paternoster  Row. 
As  usual  we  trace  this  phase  of  his  fortunes  in  his  semi-  5 
fictitious  writings ;  his  sudden  transmutation  of  the  peda- 
gogue into  the  author  being  humorously  set  forth  in  the 
case  of  "George  Primrose"  in  the  "Vicar  of  Wakefield." 
"Come,"  says  George's  adviser,  "I  see  you  are  a  lad  of 
spirit  and  some  learning ;  what  do  you  think  of  commen-  10 
cing  author  like  me  ?  You  have  read  in  books,  no  doubt,  of 
men  of  genius  starving  at  the  trade:  at  present  I'll  show 
you  forty  very  dull  fellows  about  town  that  live  by  it  in  opu- 
lence. All  honest,  jog-trot  men,  who  go  on  smoothly  and 
dully,  and  write  history  and  politics,  and  are  praised:  men,  15 
sir,  who,  had  they  been  bred  cobblers,  would  all  their  lives 
only  have  mended  shoes,  but  never  made  them."  "  Find- 
ing "  (says  George)  "  that  there  was  no  great  degree  of 
gentility  affixed  to  the  character  of  an  usher,  I  resolved  to 
accept  his  proposal ;  and,  having  the  highest  respect  for  20 
literature,  hailed  the  antiqua  mater  of  Grub  Street  with  rev- 
erence. I  thought  it  my  glory  to  pursue  a  track  which 
Dryden  and  Otway  trod  before  me."  Alas,  Dryden  strug- 
gled with  indigence  all  his  days ;  and  Otway,  it  is  said,  fell 
a  victim  to  famine  in  his  thirty-fifth  year,  being  strangled  by  25 
a  roll  of  bread,  which  he  devoured  with  the  voracity  of  a 
starving  man. 

In  Goldsmith's  experience  the  track  soon  proved  a  thorny 
one.  Griffiths  was  a  hard  business-man,  of  shrewd,  worldly 
good  sense,  but  little  refinement  or  cultivation.  He  meddled  30 
or  rather  muddled  with  literature,  too,  in  a  business-way, 
altering  and  modifying  occasionally  the  writings  of  his  con- 
tributors, and  in  this  he  was  aided  by  his  wife,  who,  accord- 
ing to  Smollett,  was  "an  antiquated  female  critic  and  a 


70  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

dabbler  in  the  '  Review.' "  Such  was  the  literary  vassalage  to 
which  Goldsmith  had  unwarily  subjected  himself.  A  diurnal 
drudgery  was  imposed  on  him,  irksome  to  his  indolent  habits, 
and  attended  by  circumstances  humiliating  to  his  pride.  He 
5  had  to  write  daily  from  nine  o'clock  until  two,  and  often 
throughout  the  day ;  whether  in  the  vein  or  not,  and  on 
subjects  dictated  by  his  task-master,  however  foreign  to  his 
taste ;  in  a  word,  he  was  treated  as  a  mere  literary  hack. 
But  this  was  not  the  worst ;  it  was  the  critical  supervision 

10  of  Griffiths  and  his  wife,  which  grieved  him  ;  the  "  illiterate, 
bookselling  Griffiths,"  as  Smollett  called  them,  "who  pre- 
sumed to  revise,  alter,  and  amend  the  articles  contributed 
to  their  '  Review.'  Thank  Heaven,"  crowed  Smollett,  "  the 
'  Critical  Review '  is  not  written  under  the  restraint  of  a 

15  bookseller  and  his  wife.  Its  principal  writers  are  inde- 
pendent of  each  other,  unconnected  with  booksellers,  and 
unawed  by  old  women ! " 

This  literary  vassalage,  however,  did  not  last  long.     The 
bookseller  became  more  and  more  exacting.     He  accused 

20  his  hack  writer  of  idleness  ;  of  abandoning  his  writing-desk 
and  literary  workshop  at  an  early  hour  of  the  day;  and  of 
assuming  a  tone  and  manner  above  his  situation.  Goldsmith, 
in  return,  charged  him  with  impertinence  ;  his  wife,  with  mean- 
ness and  parsimony  in  her  household  treatment  of  him,  and 

25  both  of  literary  meddling  and  marring.  The  engagement 
was  broken  off  at  the  end  of  five  months,  by  mutual  consent, 
and  without  any  violent  rupture,  as  it  will  be  found  they 
afterwards  had  occasional  dealings  with  each  other. 

Though  Goldsmith  was  now  nearly  thirty  years  of  age, 

30  he  had  produced  nothing  to  give  him  a  decided  reputa- 
tion. He  was  as  yet  a  mere  writer  for  bread.  The  articles 
he  had  contributed  to  the  "  Review  "  were  anonymous,  and 
were  never  avowed  by  him.  They  have  since  been,  for  the 
most  part,  ascertained ;  and  though  thrown  off  hastily,  often 


HIS   EARLY  WRITINGS  71 

treating  on  subjects  of  temporary  interest,  and  marred  by 
the  Griffith  interpolations,  they  are  still  characterized  by  his 
sound,  easy  good  sense,  and  the  genial  graces  of  his  style. 
Johnson  observed  that  Goldsmith's  genius  flowered  late ;  he 
should  have  said  it  flowered  early,  but  was  late  in  bringing 
its  fruit  to  maturity. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  In  what  respects  was  Goldsmith  a  gentleman  ?     [Consider  in  this 
connection  whether  Eppie,  in  the  novel  "  Silas  Marner,"  was  a  lady,  even 
though  she  denied  all  pretensions  to  the  title.] 

2.  What  was  the  nature  of  some  of  Goldsmith's  early  articles  while 
he  was  yet  "  a  mere  writer  for  bread  "  ?     What  is  meant  by  the  term 
"  writer  for  bread  "  ?     Do  authors  ever  write  for  anything  else  than 
bread  or  money  ? 

3.  In  what  city  was  the  greater  part  of  Goldsmith's  life  spent  after 
his  return  from  the  two  years  of  wandering  on  the  Continent?     What 
other  English  authors,  of  any  period,  resided  in  this  same  city? 


CHAPTER   VIII 

Newbery,  of  Picture-Book  Memory —  How  to  keep  up  Appearances —  Miseries 
of  Authorship  —  A  poor  Relation  —  Letter  to  Hodson. 

Being  now  known  in  the  publishing  world,  Goldsmith  began 
to  find  casual  employment  in  various  quarters  ;  among  others 
he  wrote  occasionally  for  the  "  Literary  Magazine,"  a  produc- 
tion set  on  foot  by  Mr.  John  Newbery,  bookseller,  St.  Paul's 
5  Churchyard,  renowned  in  nursery  literature  throughout  the 
latter  half  of  the  last  century  for  his  picture-books  for  chil- 
dren. Newbery  was  a  worthy,  intelligent,  kind-hearted  man, 
and  a  seasonable,  though  cautious  friend  to  authors,  relieving 
them  with  small  loans  when  in  pecuniary  difficulties,  though 

10  always  taking  care  to  be  well  repaid  by  the  labor  of  their 
pens.  Goldsmith  introduces  him  in  a  humorous  yet  friendly 
manner  in  his  novel  of  the  "Vicar  of  Wakefield."  "This 
person  was  no  other  than  the  philanthropic  bookseller  in 
St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  who  has  written  so  many  little  books 

15  for  children;  he  called  himself  their  friend  ;  but  he  was  the 
friend  of  all  mankind.  He  was  no  sooner  alighted  but  he 
was  in  haste  to  be  gone ;  for  he  was  ever  on  business  of 
importance,  and  was  at  that  time  actually  compiling  mate- 
rials for  the  history  of  one  Mr.  Thomas  Trip.  I  immediately 

20  recollected  this  good-natured  man's  red-pimpled  face." 

Besides  his  literary  job-work,  Goldsmith  also  resumed  his 
medical  practice,  but  with  very  trifling  success.  The  scanti- 
ness of  his  purse  still  obliged  him  to  live  in  obscure  lodgings 
somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  Salisbury  Square,  Fleet  Street ; 

25  but  his  extended  acquaintance  and  rising  importance  caused 
him  to  consult  appearances.  He  adopted  an  expedient,  then 
very  common,  and  still  practised  in  London  among  those 

72 


KEEPING    UP   APPEARANCES  73 

who  have  to  tread  the  narrow  path  between  pride  and  pov- 
erty :  while  he  burrowed  in  lodgings  suited  to  his  means,  he 
"  hailed,"  as  it  is  termed,  from  the  Temple  Exchange  Coffee- 
House  near  Temple  Bar.  Here  he  received  his  medical 
calls  ;  hence  he  dated  his  letters  ;  and  here  he  passed  much  5 
of  his  leisure  hours,  conversing  with  the  frequenters  of  the 
place.  "  Thirty  pounds  a  year,"  said  a  poor  Irish  painter, 
who  understood  the  art  of  shifting,  "  is  enough  to  enable  a 
man  to  live  in  London  without  being  contemptible.  Ten 
pounds  will  find  him  in  clothes  and  linen  ;  he  can  live  in  a  10 
garret  on  eighteen  pence  a  week ;  hail  from  a  coffee-house, 
where,  by  occasionally  spending  threepence,  he  may  pass 
some  hours  each  day  in  good  company;  he  may  breakfast 
on  bread  and  milk  for  a  penny  ;  dine  for  sixpence  ;  do  with- 
out supper;  and  on  dean-shirt-day  he  may  go  abroad  and  15 
pay  visits." 

Goldsmith  seems  to  have  taken  a  leaf  from  this  poor  devil's 
manual  in  respect  to  the  coffee-house  at  least.  Indeed,  coffee- 
houses in  those  days  were  the  resorts  of  wits  and  literati; 
where  the  topics  of  the  day  were  gossiped  over,  and  the  20 
affairs  of  literature  and  the  drama  discussed  and  criticised. 
In  this  way  he  enlarged  the  circle  of  his  intimacy,  which 
now  embraced  several  names  of  notoriety. 

Do  we  want  a  picture  of  Goldsmith's  experience  in  this 
part  of  his  career  ?  we  have  it  in  his  observations  on  the  life  25 
of  an  author  in  the  "  Inquiry  into  the  State  of  Polite  Learn- 
ing," published  some  years  afterwards. 

"  The  author,  unpatronized  by  the  great,  has  naturally 
recourse  to  the  bookseller.  There  cannot,  perhaps,  be  imag- 
ined a  combination  more  prejudicial  to  taste  than  this.  It  30 
is  the  interest  of  the  one  to  allow  as  little  for  writing,  and 
for  the  other  to  write  as  much  as  possible;  accordingly, 
tedious  compilations  and  periodical  magazines  are  the  result 
of  their  joint  endeavors.  In  these  circumstances  the  author 


74  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

bids  adieu  to  fame ;  writes  for  bread ;  and  for  that  only 
imagination  is  seldom  called  in.  He  sits  down  to  address 
the  venal  Muse  with  the  most  phlegmatic  apathy;  and,  as 
we  are  told  of  the  Russian,  courts  his  mistress  by  falling 
5  asleep  in  her  lap." 

Again.  "Those  who  are  unacquainted  with  the  world  are 
apt  to  fancy  the  man  of  wit  as  leading  a  very  agreeable 
life.  They  conclude,  perhaps,  that  he  is  attended  with  silent 
admiration,  and  dictates  to  the  rest  of  mankind  with  all  the 

10  eloquence  of  conscious  superiority.  Very  different  is  his 
present  situation.  He  is  called  an  author,  and  all  know  that 
an  author  is  a  thing  only  to  be  laughed  at.  His  person, 
not  his  jest,  becomes  the  mirth  of  the  company.  At  his 
approach  the  most  fat,  unthinking  face  brightens  into  mali- 

15  cious  meaning.     Even  aldermen  laugh,  and  avenge  on  him 

the  ridicule  which  was  lavished  on  their  forefathers 

The  poet's  poverty  is  a  standing  topic  of  contempt.  His 
writing  for  bread  is  an  unpardonable  offence.  Perhaps  of 
all  mankind,  an  author  in  these  times  is  used  most  hardly. 

20  We  keep  him  poor,  and  yet  revile  his  poverty.  We  reproach 
him  for  living  by  his  wit,  and  yet  allow  him  no  other  means 
to  live.  His  taking  refuge  in  garrets  and  cellars  has  of  late 
been  violently  objected  to  him,  and  that  by  men  who,  I  have 
hope,  are  more  apt  to  pity  than  insult  his  distress.  Is  pov- 

25  erty  a  careless  fault  ?  No  doubt  he  knows  how  to  prefer  a 
bottle  of  champagne  to  the  nectar  of  the  neighboring  ale- 
house, or  a  venison  pasty  to  a  plate  of  potatoes.  Want  of 
delicacy  is  not  in  him,  but  in  those  who  deny  him  the  oppor- 
tunity of  making  an  elegant  choice.  Wit  certainly  is  the 

30  property  of  those  who  have  it,  nor  should  we  be  displeased 
if  it  is  the  only  property  a  man  sometimes  has.  We  must 
not  underrate  him  who  uses  it  for  subsistence,  and  flees 
from  the  ingratitude  of  the  age,  even  to  a  bookseller  for 
redress."  .  . 


MISERIES   OF  AUTHORSHIP  75 

"If  the  author  be  necessary  among  us,  let  us  treat  him 
with  proper  consideration  as  a  child  of  the  public,  not  as  a 
rent-charge  on  the  community.  And  indeed  a  child  of  the 
public  he  is  in  all  respects ;  for  while  so  well  able  to  direct 
others,  how  incapable  is  he  frequently  found  of  guiding  5 
himself.  His  simplicity  exposes  him  to  all  the  insidious 
approaches  of  cunning :  his  sensibility,  to  the  slightest  inva- 
sions of  contempt.  Though  possessed  of  fortitude  to  stand 
unmoved  the  expected  bursts  of  an  earthquake,  yet  of  feel- 
ings so  exquisitely  poignant,  as  to  agonize  under  the  slightest  10 
disappointment.  Broken  rest,  tasteless  meals,  and  causeless 
anxieties  shorten  life  and  render  it  unfit  for  active  employ- 
ments ;  prolonged  vigils  and  intense  applications  still  far- 
ther contract  his  span,  and  make  his  time  glide  insensibly 
away."  15 

While  poor  Goldsmith  was  thus  struggling  with  the  diffi- 
culties and  discouragements  which  in  those  days  beset  the 
path  of  an  author,  his  friends  in  Ireland  received  accounts 
of  his  literary  success  and  of  the  distinguished  acquaint- 
ances he  was  making.  This  was  enough  to  put  the  wise  20 
heads  at  Lissoy  and  Ballymahon  in  a  ferment  of  conjec- 
tures. With  the  exaggerated  notions  of  provincial  relatives 
concerning  the  family  great  man  in  the  metropolis,  some  of 
Goldsmith's  poor  kindred  pictured  him  to  themselves  seated 
in  high  places,  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  hand  25 
and  glove  with  the  givers  of  gifts  and  dispensers  of  patron- 
age. Accordingly,  he  was  one  day  surprised  at  the  sudden 
apparition,  in  his  miserable  lodging,  of  his  younger  brother 
Charles,  a  raw  youth  of  twenty-one,  endowed  with  a  double 
share  of  the  family  heedlessness,  and  who  expected  to  be  30 
forthwith  helped  into  some  snug  by-path  to  fortune  by  one 
or  other  of  Oliver's  great  friends.  Charles  was  sadly  dis- 
concerted on  learning  that,  so  far  from  being  able  to  provide 
for  others,  his  brother  could  scarcely  take  care  of  himself. 


76  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

He  looked  round  with   a  rueful  eye  on  the  poet's  quar- 
ters, and  could  not  help  expressing  his  surprise  and  disap- 
pointment at  finding  him  no  better  off.     "  All  in  good  time, 
my  dear  boy,"  replied  poor  Goldsmith,  with  infinite  good- 
5  humor ;  "  I  shall  be  richer  by-and-by.     Addison,  let  me  tell 
you,  wrote  his  poem  of  the  '  Campaign  '  in  a  garret  in  the 
Haymarket,  three  stories  high,  and  you  see  I  am  not  come 
to  that  yet,  for  I  have  only  got  to  the  second  story." 
Charles  Goldsmith  did  not  remain  long  to  embarrass  his 

10  brother  in  London.  With  the  same  roving  disposition  and 
inconsiderate  temper  of  Oliver,  he  suddenly  departed  in  an 
humble  capacity  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  West  Indies,  and 
nothing  was  heard  of  him  for  above  thirty  years,  when,  after 
having  been  given  up  as  dead  by  his  friends,  he  made  his 

15  reappearance  in  England. 

Shortly  after  his  departure,  Goldsmith  wrote  a  letter  to  his 
brother-in-law,  Daniel  Hodson,  Esq.,  of  which  the  following  is 
an  extract ;  it  was  partly  intended,  no  doubt,  to  dissipate  any 
further  illusions  concerning  his  fortunes  which  might  float  on 

20  the  magnificent  imagination  of  his  friends  in  Ballymahon. 

"  I  suppose  you  desire  to  know  my  present  situation.  As 
there  is  nothing  in  it  at  which  I  should  blush  or  which  man- 
kind could  censure,  I  see  no  reason  for  making  it  a  secret. 
In  short,  by  a  very  little  practice  as  a  physician,  and  a  very 

25  little  reputation  as  a  poet,  I  make  a  shift  to  live.  Nothing 
is  more  apt  to  introduce  us  to  the  gates  of  the  Muses  than 
poverty;  but  it  were  well  if  they  only  left  us  at  the  door. 
The  mischief  is,  they  sometimes  choose  to  give  us  their 
company  to  the  entertainment ;  and  want,  instead  of  being 

30  gentleman-usher,  often  turns  master  of  the  ceremonies. 

"  Thus,  upon  learning  I  write,  no  doubt  you  imagine  I 
starve ;  and  the  name  of  an  author  naturally  reminds  you  of 
a  garret.  In  this  particular  I  do  not  think  proper  to  unde- 
ceive my  friends.  But,  whether  I  eat  or  starve,  live  in  a 


LETTER  TO    HODSON  77 

first  floor  or  four  pairs  of  stairs  high,  I  still  remember  them 
with  ardor ;  nay,  my  very  country  comes  in  for  a  share 
of  my  affection.  Unaccountable  fondness  for  country,  this 
maladie  dn  pais,  as  the  French  call  it !  Unaccountable  that 
he  should  still  have  an  affection  for  a  place,  who  never,  5 
when  in  it,  received  above  common  civility ;  who  never 
brought  anything  out  of  it  except  his  brogue  and  his  blun- 
ders. Surely  my  affection  is  equally  ridiculous  with  the 
Scotchman's,  who  refused  to  be  cured  of  the  itch  because  it 
made  him  unco'  thoughtful  of  his  wife  and  bonny  Inverary.  10 

"But,  now,  to  be  serious:  let  me  ask  myself  what  gives 
me  a  wish  to  see  Ireland  again.  The  country  is  a  fine  one, 
perhaps  ?  No.  There  are  good  company  in  Ireland  ?  No. 
The  conversation  there  is  generally  made  up  of  a  smutty 
toast  or  a  bawdy  song;  the  vivacity  supported  by  some  15 
humble  cousin,  who  had  just  folly  enough  to  earn  his  din- 
ner. Then,  perhaps,  there  's  more  wit  and  learning  among 
the  Irish  ?  Oh,  Lord,  no  !  There  has  been  more  money 
spent  in  the  encouragement  of  the  Padareen  mare  there  one 
season,  than  given  in  rewards  to  learned  men  since  the  time  20 
of  Usher.  All  their  productions  in  learning  amount  to  per- 
haps a  translation,  or  a  few  tracts  in  divinity ;  and  all  their 
productions  in  wit  to  just  nothing  at  all.  Why  the  plague, 
then,  so  fond  of  Ireland  ?  Then,  all  at  once,  because  you, 
my  dear  friend,  and  a  few  more  who  are  exceptions  to  the  25 
general  picture,  have  a  residence  there.  This  it  is  that 
gives  me  all  the  pangs  I  feel  in  separation.  I  confess  I 
carry  this  spirit  sometimes  to  the  souring  the  pleasures  I 
at  present  possess.  If  I  go  to  the  opera,  where  Signora 
Columba  pours  out  all  the  mazes  of  melody,  I  sit  and  sigh  30 
for  Lissoy  fireside,  and  Johnny  Armstrong's  'Last  Good- 
night' from  Peggy  Golden.  If  I  climb  Hampstead  Hill, 
than  where  nature  never  exhibited  a  more  magnificent  pros- 
pect, I  confess  it  fine ;  but  then  I  had  rather  be  placed  on 


78  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

the  little  mount  before  Lissoy  gate,  and  there  take  in,  to 
me,  the  most  pleasing  horizon  in  nature. 

"Before  Charles  came  hither,  my  thoughts  sometimes 
found  refuge  from  severer  studies  among  my  friends  in 
5  Ireland.  I  fancied  strange  revolutions  at  home  ;  but  I  find 
it  was  the  rapidity  of  my  own  motion  that  gave  an  imaginary 
one  to  objects  really  at  rest.  No  alterations  there.  Some 
friends,  he  tells  me,  are  still  lean,  but  very  rich  ;  others  very 
fat,  but  still  very  poor.  Nay,  all  the  news  I  hear  of  you  is, 

10  that  you  sally  out  in  visits  among  the  neighbors,  and  some- 
times make  a  migration  from  the  blue  bed  to  the  brown. 
I  could  from  my  heart  wish  that  you  and  she  (Mrs.  Hod- 
son),  and  Lissoy  and  Ballymahon,  and  all  of  you,  would 
fairly  make  a  migration  into  Middlesex;  though,  upon  second 

15  thoughts,  this  might  be  attended  with  a  few  inconveniences. 
Therefore,  as  the  mountain  will  not  come  to  Mohammed, 
why  Mohammed  shall  go  to  the  mountain;  or,  to  speak 
plain  English,  as  you  cannot  conveniently  pay  me  a  visit, 
if  next  summer  I  can  contrive  to  be  absent  six  weeks  from 

20  London,  I  shall  spend  three  of  them  among  my  friends  in 
Ireland,  But  first,  believe  me,  my  design  is  purely  to  visit, 
and  neither  to  cut  a  figure  nor  levy  contributions ;  neither 
to  excite  envy  nor  solicit  favor ;  in  fact,  my  circumstances 
are  adapted  to  neither.  I  am  too  poor  to  be  gazed  at,  and 

25  too  rich  to  need  assistance." 


TOPICS   AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Goldsmith's  struggle  for  recognition  among  the  publishers. 

2.  What  adverb  does  Irving  use  most  frequently  in  order  to  avoid 
specific  statements  about  how  much  time  is  elapsing  in  the  biography? 

3.  Is  the  phrase  "  much  of  his  leisure  hours  "  good  English  ? 


CHAPTER   IX 

Hackney  Authorship — Thoughts  of  Literary  Suicide  —  Return  to  Peckham  — 
Oriental  Projects  —  Literary  Enterprise  to  raise  Funds  —  Letter  to  Edward 
Mills;  to  Robert  Bryanton  —  Death  of  Uncle  Contarine — Letter  to 
Cousin  Jane. 

For  some  time  Goldsmith  continued  to  write  miscella- 
neously for  reviews  and  other  periodical  publications,  but 
without  making  any  decided  hit,  to  use  a  technical  term. 
Indeed  as  yet  he  appeared  destitute  of  the  strong  excitement 
of  literary  ambition,  and  wrote  only  on  the  spur  of  necessity  5 
and  at  the  urgent  importunity  of  his  bookseller.  His  indo- 
lent and  truant  disposition,  ever  averse  from  labor  and 
delighting  in  holiday,  had  to  be  scourged  up  to  its  task; 
still  it  was  this  very  truant  disposition  which  threw  an  un- 
conscious charm  over  everything  he  wrote;  bringing  with  it  10 
honeyed  thoughts  and  pictured  images  which  had  sprung 
up  in  his  mind  in  the  sunny  hours  of  idleness :  these  effu- 
sions, dashed  off  on  compulsion  in  the  exigency  of  the 
moment,  were  published  anonymously;  so  that  they  made 
no  collective  impression  on  the  public,  and  reflected  no  15 
fame  on  the  name  of  their  author. 

In  an  essay  published  some  time  subsequently  in  the 
"  Bee,"  Goldsmith  adverts  in  his  own  humorous  way  to  his 
impatience  at  the  tardiness  with  which  his  desultory  and 
unacknowledged  essays  crept  into  notice.  "  I  was  once  20 
induced,"  says  he,  "to  show  my  indignation  against  the 
public  by  discontinuing  my  efforts  to  please ;  and  was 
bravely  resolved,  like  Raleigh,  to  vex  them  by  burning  my 
manuscripts  in  a  passion.  Upon  reflection,  however,  I  con- 
sidered what  set  or  body  of  people  would  be  displeased  at  25 

79 


8o  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

my  rashness.  The  sun,  after  so  sad  an  accident,  might 
shine  next  morning  as  bright  as  usual ;  men  might  laugh 
and  sing  the  next  day,  and  transact  business  as  before ;  and 
not  a  single  creature  feel  any  regret  but  myself.  Instead  of 
5  having  Apollo  in  mourning  or  the  Muses  in  a  fit  of  the 
spleen;  instead  of  having  the  learned  world  apostrophizing 
at  my  untimely  decease ;  perhaps  all  Grub  Street  might 
laugh  at  my  fate,  and  self-approving  dignity  be  unable  to 
shield  me  from  ridicule." 

10  Circumstances  occurred  about  this  time  to  give  a  new  direc- 
tion to  Goldsmith's  hopes  and  schemes.  Having  resumed 
for  a  brief  period  the  superintendence  of  the  Peckham 
school,  during  a  fit  of  illness  of  Dr.  Milner,  that  gentleman, 
in  requital  for  his  timely  services,  promised  to  use  his  influ- 

15  ence  with  a  friend,  an  East-India  director,  to  procure  him  a 
medical  appointment  in  India. 

There  was  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  influence  of 
Dr.  Milner  would  be  effectual ;  but  how  was  Goldsmith  to 
find  the  ways  and  means  of  fitting  himself  out  for  a  voyage 

20  to  the  Indies?  In  this  emergency  he  was  driven  to  a  more 
extended  exercise  of  the  pen  than  he  had  yet  attempted. 
His  skirmishing  among  books  as  a  reviewer,  and  his  dispu- 
tatious ramble  among  the  schools  and  universities  and 
literati  of  the  Continent,  had  filled  his  mind  with  facts  and 

25  observations  which  he  now  set  about  digesting  into  a  treatise 
of  some  magnitude,  to  be  entitled  "An  Inquiry  into  the 
Present  State  of  Polite  Learning  in  Europe."  As  the  work 
grew  on  his  hands,  his  sanguine  temper  ran  ahead  of  his 
labors.  Feeling  secure  of  success  in  England,  he  was 

30  anxious  to  forestall  the  piracy  of  the  Irish  press;  for  as  yet, 
the  union  not  having  taken  place,  the  English  law  of  copy- 
right did  not  extend  to  the  other  side  of  the  Irish  channel. 
He  wrote,  therefore,  to  his  friends  in  Ireland,  urging  them 
to  circulate  his  proposals  for  his  contemplated  work,  and 


LETTER  TO   MILLS  8  I 

obtain  subscriptions  payable  in  advance ;  the  money  to 
be  transmitted  to  a  Mr.  Bradley,  an  eminent  bookseller  in 
Dublin,  who  would  give  a  receipt  for  it  and  be  accountable 
for  the  delivery  of  the  books.  The  letters  written  by  him 
on  this  occasion  are  worthy  of  copious  citation  as  being  full  5 
of  character  and  interest.  One  was  to  his  relative  and  col- 
lege intimate,  Edward  Mills,  who  had  studied  for  the  bar, 
but  was  now  living  at  ease  on  his  estate  at  Roscommon. 
"  You  have  quitted,"  writes  Goldsmith,  "  the  plan  of  life 
which  you  once  intended  to  pursue,  and  given  up  ambition  10 
for  domestic  tranquillity.  I  cannot  avoid  feeling  some  regret 
that  one  of  my  few  friends  has  declined  a  pursuit  in  which 
he  had  every  reason  to  expect  success.  I  have  often  let  my 
fancy  loose  when  you  were  the  subject,  and  have  imagined 
you  gracing  the  bench,  or  thundering  at  the  bar:  while  I  15 
have  taken  no  small  pride  to  myself,  and  whispered  to  all 
that  I  could  come  near,  that  this  was  my  cousin.  Instead 
of  this,  it  seems,  you  are  merely  contented  to  be  a  happy 
man  ;  to  be  esteemed  by  your  acquaintances ;  to  cultivate 
your  paternal  acres ;  to  take  unmolested  a  nap  under  one  of  20 
your  own  hawthorns,  or  in  Mrs.  Mills's  bedchamber,  which, 
even  a  poet  must  confess,  is  rather  the  more  comfortable 
place  of  the  two.  But,  however  your  resolutions  may  be 
altered  with  regard  to  your  situation  in  life,  I  persuade  my- 
self they  are  unalterable  with  respect  to  your  friends  in  it.  25 
I  cannot  think  the  world  has  taken  such  entire  possession 
of  that  heart  (once  so  susceptible  of  friendship)  as  not  to 
have  left  a  corner  there  for  a  friend  or  two,  but  I  flatter 
myself  that  even  I  have  a  place  among  the  number.  This 
I  have  a  claim  to  from  the  similitude  of  our  dispositions;  30 
or  setting  that  aside,  I  can  demand  it  as  a  right  by  the  most 
equitable  law  of  nature :  I  mean  that  of  retaliation ;  for 
indeed  you  have  more  than  your  share  in  mine.  I  am  a  man 
of  few  professions ;  and  yet  at  this  very  instant  I  cannot 


82  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

avoid  the  painful  apprehension  that  my  present  professions 
(which  speak  not  half  my  feelings)  should  be  considered 
only  as  a  pretext  to  cover  a  request,  as  I  have  a  request  to 
make.  No,  my  dear  Ned,  I  know  you  are  too  generous  to 
5  think  so,  and  you  know  me  too  proud  to  stoop  to  unnecessary 
insincerity;  —  I  have  a  request,  it  is  true,  to  make;  but  as  I 
know  to  whom  I  am  a  petitioner,  I  make  it  without  dif- 
fidence or  confusion.  It  is  in  short  this :  I  am  going  to 
publish  a  book  in  London,"  &c.  The  residue  of  the  letter 

10  specifies  the  nature  of  the  request,  which  was  merely  to 
aid  in  circulating  his  proposals  and  obtaining  subscriptions. 
The  letter  of  the  poor  author,  however,  was  unattended  to 
and  unacknowledged  by  the  prosperous  Mr.  Mills,  of  Ros- 
common,  though  in  after-years  he  was  proud  to  claim  relation- 

15  ship  to  Dr.  Goldsmith, -when  he  had  risen  to  celebrity. 

Another  of  Goldsmith's  letters  was  to  Robert  Bryanton, 
with  whom  he  had  long  ceased  to  be  in  correspondence. 
"  I  believe,"  writes  he,  "  that  they  who  are  drunk,  or  out 
of  their  wits,  fancy  everybody  else  in  the  same  condition. 

20  Mine  is  a  friendship  that  neither  distance  nor  time  can 
efface,  which  is  probably  the  reason  that,  for  the  soul  of  me, 
I  can't  avoid  thinking  yours  of  the  same  complexion;  and 
yet  I  have  many  reasons  for  being  of  a  contrary  opinion, 
else  why,  in  so  long  an  absence,  was  I  never  made  a  part- 

25  ner  in  your  concerns?  To  hear  of  your  success  would  have 
given  me  the  utmost  pleasure ;  and  a  communication  of  your 
very  disappointments  would  divide  the  uneasiness  I  too  fre- 
quently feel  for  my  own.  Indeed,  my  dear  Bob,  you  don't 
conceive  how  unkindly  you  have  treated  one  whose  circum- 

30  stances  afford  him  few  prospects  of  pleasure,  except  those 
reflected  from  the  happiness  of  his  friends.  However,  since 
you  have  not  let  me  hear  from  you,  I  have  in  some  meas- 
ure disappointed  your  neglect  by  frequently  thinking  of  you. 
Every  day  or  so  I  remember  the  calm  anecdotes  of  your  life, 


LETTER  TO   BRYANTON  83 

from  the  fireside  to  the  easy-chair ;  recall  the  various  adven- 
tures that  first  cemented  our  friendship ;  the  school,  the  col- 
lege, or  the  tavern ;  preside  in  fancy  over  your  cards ;  and 
am  displeased  at  your  bad  play  when  the  rubber  goes  against 
you,  though  not  with  all  that  agony  of  soul  as  when  I  was  5 
once  your  partner.  Is  it  not  strange  that  two  of  such  like 
affections  should  be  so  much  separated,  and  so  differently 
employed  as  we  are  ?  You  seem  placed  at  the  centre  of  for- 
tune's wheel,  and,  let  it  revolve  ever  so  fast,  are  insensible 
of  the  motion.  I  seem  to  have  been  tied  to  the  circumference,  10 
and  whirled  disagreeably  around,  as  if  on  a  whirligig." 

He  then  runs  into  a  whimsical  and  extravagant  tirade 
about  his  future  prospects.  The  wonderful  career  of  fame 
and  fortune  that  awaits  him,  and  after  indulging  in  all  kinds 
of  humorous  gasconades,  concludes:  "Let  me,  then,  stop  my  15 
fancy  to  take  a  view  of  my  future  self,  —  and,  as  the  boys 
say,  light  down  to  see  myself  on  horseback.  Well,  now  that 
I  am  down,  where  the  d — 1  is  I?  Oh  gods !  gods !  here  in 
a  garret,  writing  for  bread,  and  expecting  to  be  dunned  for 
a  milk  score  !  "  20 

He  would,  on  this  occasion,  have  doubtless  written  to  his 
uncle  Contarine,  but  that  generous  friend  was  sunk  into  a 
helpless  hopeless  state  from  which  death  soon  released  him. 

Cut  off  thus  from  the  kind  cooperation  of  his  uncle,  he 
addresses  a  letter  to  his  daughter  Jane,  the  companion  of  25 
his  school-boy  and  happy  days,  now  the  wife  of  Mr.  Lawder. 
The  object  was  to  secure  her  interest  with  her  husband  in 
promoting  the  circulation  of  his  proposals.  The  letter  is  full 
of  character. 

"  If  you  should  ask,"  he  begins,  "  why,  in  an  interval  of  30 
so  many  years,  you  never  heard  from  me,  permit  me,  madam, 
to  ask  the  same  question.    I  have  the  best  excuse  in  recrim- 
ination.    I  wrote  to  Kilmore  from  Leyden  in  Holland,  from 
Louvain  in  Flanders,  and  Rouen  in  France,  but  received 


84  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

no  answer.  To  what  could  I  attribute  this  silence  but  to 
displeasure  or  forgetfulness  ?  Whether  I  was  right  in  my 
conjecture  I  do  not  pretend  to  determine ;  but  this  I  must 
ingenuously  own,  that  I  have  a  thousand  times  in  my  turn 
5  endeavored  to  forget  them,  whom  I  could  not  but  look  upon 
as  forgetting  me.  I  have  attempted  to  blot  their  names  from 
my  memory,  and,  I  confess  it,  spent  whole  days  in  efforts  to 
tear  their  image  from  my  heart.  Could  I  have  succeeded, 
you  had  not  now  been  troubled  with  this  renewal  of  a  dis- 

10  continued  correspondence ;  but,  as  every  effort  the  restless 
make  to  procure  sleep  serves  but  to  keep  them  waking, 
all  my  attempts  contributed  to  impress  what  I  would  forget 
deeper  on  my  imagination.  But  this  subject  I  would  will- 
ingly turn  from,  and  yet,  'for  the  soul  of  me,'  I  can't  till  I 

15  have  said  all.  I  was,  madam,  when  I  discontinued  writing 
to  Kilmore,  in  such  circumstances,  that  all  my  endeavors  to 
continue  your  regards  might  be  attributed  to  wrong  motives. 
My  letters  might  be  looked  upon  as  the  petitions  of  a  beggar, 
and  not  the  offerings  of  a  friend ;  while  all  my  professions, 

20  instead  of  being  considered  as  the  result  of  disinterested 
esteem,  might  be  ascribed  to  venal  insincerity.  I  believe, 
indeed,  you  had  too  much  generosity  to  place  them  in  such 
a  light,  but  I  could  not  bear  even  the  shadow  of  such  a  sus- 
picion. The  most  delicate  friendships  are  always  most  sen- 

25  sible  of  the  slightest  invasion,  and  the  strongest  jealousy  is 
ever  attendant  on  the  warmest  regard.  I  could  not  —  I  own 
I  could  not  —  continue  a  correspondence  in  which  every 
acknowledgment  for  past  favors  might  be  considered  as  an 
indirect  request  for  future  ones;  and  where  it  might  be 

30  thought  I  gave  my  heart  from  a  motive  of  gratitude  alone, 
when  I  was  conscious  of  having  bestowed  it  on  much  more 
disinterested  principles.  It  is  true,  this  conduct  might  have 
been  simple  enough;  but  yourself  must  confess  it  was  in  char- 
acter. Those  who  know  me  at  all,  know  that  I  have  always 


LETTER   TO   COUSIN    JANE  85 

been  actuated  by  different  principles  from  the  rest  of  man- 
kind :  and  while  none  regarded  the  interest  of  his  friend  more, 
no  man  on  earth  regarded  his  own  less.  I  have  often  affected 
bluntness  to  avoid  the  imputation  of  flattery  ;  have  frequently 
seemed  to  overlook  those  merits  too  obvious  to  escape  notice,  e 
and  pretended  disregard  to  those  instances  of  good  nature  and 
good  sense,  which  I  could  not  fail  tacitly  to  applaud  ;  and  all 
this  lest  I  should  be  ranked  among  the  grinning  tribe,  who 
say  '  very  true  '  to  all  that  is  said ;  who  fill  a  vacant  chair  at 
a  tea-table ;  whose  narrow  souls  never  moved  in  a  wider  cir-  10 
cle  than  the  circumference  of  a  guinea;  and  who  had  rather 
be  reckoning  the  money  in  your  pocket  than  the  virtue  in 
your  breast.  All  this,  I  say,  I  have  done,  and  a  thousand 
other  very  silly,  though  very  disinterested,  things  in  my  time; 

and  for  all  which  no  soul  cares  a  farthing  about  me Is  15 

it  to  be  wondered  that  he  should  once  in  his  life  forget  you, 
who  has  been  all  his  life  forgetting  himself  ?  However,  it 
is  probable  you  may  one  of  these  days  see  me  turned  into  a 
perfect  hunks,  and  as  dark  and  intricate  as  a  mouse- hole. 
I  have  already  given  my  landlady  orders  for  an  entire  reform  20 
in  the  state  of  my  finances.  I  declaim  against  hot  suppers, 
drink  less  sugar  in  my  tea,  and  check  my  grate  with  brick- 
bats. Instead  of  hanging  my  room  with  pictures,  I  intend  to 
adorn  it  with  maxims  of  frugality.  Those  will  make  pretty 
furniture  enough,  and  won't  be  a  bit  too  expensive ;  for  I  25 
will  draw  them  all  out  with  my  own  hands,  and  my  landlady's 
daughter  shall  frame  them  with  the  parings  of  my  black 
waistcoat.  Each  maxim  is  to  be  inscribed  on  a  sheet  of  clean 
paper,  and  wrote  with  my  best  pen  ;  of  which  the  following 
will  serve  as  a  specimen.  Look  sharp :  Mind  the  main  chance :  30 
Money  is  money  now :  If  you  have  a  thousand  pounds  you  can 
put  your  hands  by  your  sides,  and  say  you  are  worth  a  thou- 
sand pounds  every  day  of  the  year :  Take  a  farthing  from  a 
hundred  and  it  will  be  a  hundred  no  longer.  Thus,  which  way 


86  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

soever  I  turn  my  eyes,  they  are  sure  to  meet  one  of  those 
friendly  monitors  ;  and  as  we  are  told  of  an  actor  who  hung 
his  room  round  with  looking-glass  to  correct  the  defects  of 
his  person,  my  apartment  shall  be  furnished  in  a  peculiar 
5  manner,  to  correct  the  errors  of  my  mind.  Faith  !  madam, 
I  heartily  wish  to  be  rich,  if  it  were  only  for  this  reason,  to 
say  without  a  blush  how  much  I  esteem  you.  But,  alas ! 
I  have  many  a  fatigue  to  encounter  before  that  happy  time 
comes,  when  your  poor  old  simple  friend  may  again  give  a 

10  loose  to  the  luxuriance  of  his  nature  ;  sitting  by  Kilmore  fire- 
side, recount  the  various  adventures  of  a  hard-fought  life; 
laugh  over  the  follies  of  the  day ;  join  his  flute  to  your  harp- 
sichord ;  and  forget  that  ever  he  starved  in  those  streets 
where  Butler  and  Otway  starved  before  him.  And  now  I 

15  mention  those  great  names  —  my  Uncle!  he  is  no  more  that 
soul  of  fire  as  when  I  once  knew  him.  Newton  and  Swift 
grew  dim  with  age  as  well  as  he.  But  what  shall  I  say? 
His  mind  was  too  active  an  inhabitant  not  to  disorder  the 
feeble  mansion  of  its  abode;  for  the  richest  jewels  soonest 

20  wear  their  settings.  Yet,  who  but  the  fool  would  lament  his 
condition  !  He  now  forgets  the  calamities  of  life.  Perhaps 
indulgent  Heaven  has  given  him  a  foretaste  of  that  tran- 
quillity here,  which  he  so  well  deserves  hereafter.  But  I 
must  come  to  business  ;  for  business,  as  one  of  my  maxims 

25  tells  me,  must  be  minded  or  lost.  I  am  going  to  publish 
in  London  a  book  entitled  "  The  Present  State  of  Taste  and 
Literature  in  Europe."  The  booksellers  in  Ireland  republish 
every  performance  there  without  making  the  author  any  con- 
sideration. I  would,  in  this  respect,  disappoint  their  avarice, 

30  and  have  all  the  profits  of  my  labor  to  myself.  I  must,  there- 
fore, request  Mr.  Lawder  to  circulate  among  his  friends  and 
acquaintances  a  hundred  of  my  proposals,  which  I  have  given 
the  bookseller,  Mr.  Bradley,  in  Dame  Street,  directions  to 
send  to  him.  If,  in  pursuance  of  such  circulation,  he  should 


LETTER  TO   COUSIN  JANE  8/ 

receive  any  subscriptions,  I  entreat,  when  collected,  they  may 
be  sent  to  Mr.  Bradley,  as  aforesaid,  who  will  give  a  receipt, 
and  be  accountable  for  the  work,  or  a  return  of  the  sub- 
scription. If  this  request  (which,  if  it  be  complied  with,  will 
in  some  measure  be  an  encouragement  to  a  man  of  learning)  5 
should  be  disagreeable  or  troublesome,  I  would  not  press  it; 
for  I  would  be  the  last  man  on  earth  to  have  my  labors  go 
a-begging;  but  if  I  know  Mr.  Lawder  (and  sure  I  ought  to 
know  him),  he  will  accept  the  employment  with  pleasure.  All 
I  can  say  —  if  he  writes  a  book,  I  will  get  him  two  hundred  10 
subscribers,  and  those  of  the  best  wits  in  Europe.  Whether 
this  request  is  complied  with  or  not,  I  shall  not  be  uneasy;  but 
there  is  one  petition  I  must  make  to  him  and  to  you,  which 
I  solicit  with  the  warmest  ardor,  and  in  which  I  cannot  bear 
a  refusal.  I  mean,  dear  madam,  that  I  may  be  allowed  to  15 
subscribe  myself,  your  ever  affectionate  and  obliged  kinsman, 
OLIVER  GOLDSMITH.  Now  see  how  I  blot  and  blunder,  when 
I  am  asking  a  favor." 


TOPICS   AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  What  did   Goldsmith  say  in  his  letters  of  this  time?     Does  it 
seem  strange  that  the  letters  should  have  been  preserved  ?     Were  they 
probably  written  with  an  eye  to  future  publication  ? 

2.  Why  did  Goldsmith  wish  a  medical  appointment  in  India  ?     Was 
he  well  qualified  to  undertake  such  work  ? 

3.  Of  what  value  are  the  maxims  written  by  Goldsmith  to  his  cousin 
Jane? 

4.  What  work  did  many  booksellers  of  Goldsmith's  time  perform 
beside  selling  books? 


CHAPTER  X 

Oriental  Appointment;  and  Disappointment — Examination  at  the  College  of 
Surgeons — How  to  procure  a  Suit  of  Clothes  —  Fresh  Disappointment 
—  A  Tale  of  Distress  —  The  Suit  of  Clothes  in  Pawn  —  Punishment  for 
doing  an  Act  of  Charity  —  Gayeties  of  Green  Arbor  Court  —  Letter  to  his 
Brother —  Life  of  Voltaire  —  Scroggin,  an  Attempt  at  mock-heroic  Poetry. 

While  Goldsmith  was  yet  laboring  at  his  treatise,  the 
promise  made  him  by  Dr.  Milner  was  carried  into  effect, 
and  he  was  actually  appointed  physician  and  surgeon  to  one 
of  the  factories  on  the  coast  of  Coromandel.  His  imagina- 

5  tion  was  immediately  on  fire  with  visions  of  Oriental  wealth 
and  magnificence.  It  is  true  the  salary  did  not  exceed  one 
hundred  pounds,  but  then,  as  appointed  physician,  he  would 
have  the  exclusive  practice  of  the  place,  amounting  to  one 
thousand  pounds  per  annum  ;  with  advantages  to  be  derived 

10  from  trade  and  from  the  high  interest  of  money  —  twenty 
per  cent.;  in  a  word,  for  once  in  his  life,  the  road  to  fortune 
lay  broad  and  straight  before  him. 

Hitherto,  in  his  correspondence  with  his  friends,  he  had 
said  nothing  of  his  India  scheme ;  but  now  he  imparted  to 

15  them  his  brilliant  prospects,  urging  the  importance  of  their 
circulating  his  proposals  and  obtaining  him  subscriptions 
and  advances  on  his  forthcoming  work,  to  furnish  funds  for 
his  outfit. 

In  the  mean  time  he  had  to  task  that  poor  drudge,  his 

20  Muse,  for  present  exigencies.  Ten  pounds  were  demanded 
for  his  appointment-warrant.  Other  expenses  pressed  hard 
upon  him.  Fortunately,  though  as  yet  unknown  to  fame, 
his  literary  capability  was  known  to  "  the  trade,"  and  the  coin- 
age of  his  brain  passed  current  in  Grub  Street.  Archibald 

88 


ORIENTAL   APPOINTMENT  89 

Hamilton,  proprietor  of  the  "  Critical  Review,"  the  rival 
to  that  of  Griffiths,  readily  made  him  a  small  advance  on 
receiving  three  articles  for  his  periodical.  His  purse  thus 
slenderly  replenished,  Goldsmith  paid  for  his  warrant ;  wiped 
off  the  score  of  his  milkmaid ;  abandoned  his  garret,  and  5 
moved  into  a  shabby  first  floor  in  a  forlorn  court  near  the 
Old  Bailey ;  there  to  await  the  time  of  his  migration  to  the 
magnificent  coast  of  Coromandel. 

Alas !  poor  Goldsmith  !  ever  doomed  to  disappointment. 
Early  in  the  gloomy  month  of  November,  that  month  of  fog  10 
and  despondency  in  London,  he  learnt  the  shipwreck  of  his 
hope.     The  great  Coromandel  enterprise  fell   through,;   or 
rather  the  post  promised  to  him  was   transferred  to  some 
other  candidate.     The  cause  of  this  disappointment  it  is  now 
impossible  to   ascertain.     The   death   of  his   quasi  patron,  15 
Dr.  Milner,  which  happened  about  this  time,  may  have  had 
some  effect  in  producing  it ;  or  there  may  have  been  some 
heedlessness    and    blundering  on    his  own   part ;   or   some 
obstacle  arising  from  his  insuperable  indigence; — whatever 
may  have   been   the   cause,  he  never  mentioned   it,  which  20 
gives  some  ground  to  surmise  that  he  himself  was  to  blame. 
His  friends  learnt  with  surprise  that  he  had  suddenly  relin- 
quished his  appointment  to  India,  about  which  he  had  raised 
such  sanguine  expectations :    some   accused  him  of  fickle- 
ness and  caprice  ;  others  supposed  him  unwilling  to  tear  him-  25 
self  from  the  growing  fascinations  of  the  literary  society  of 
London. 

In  the  mean  time,  cut  down  in  his  hopes,  and  humiliated 
in  his  pride  by  the  failure  of  his  Coromandel  scheme,  he 
sought,  without  consulting  his  friends,  to  be  examined  at  30 
the  College  of  Physicians  for  the  humble  situation  of  hos- 
pital mate.  Even  here  poverty  stood  in  his  way.  It  was 
necessary  to  appear  in  a  decent  garb  before  the  examining 
committee  ;  but  how  was  he  to  do  so?  He  was  literally  out 


90  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

at  elbows  as  well  as  out  of  cash.  Here  again  the  Muse, 
so  often  jilted  and  neglected  by  him,  came  to  his  aid.  In 
consideration  of  four  articles  furnished  to  the  "Monthly 
Review,"  Griffiths,  his  old  task-master,  was  to  become  his 
5  security  to  the  tailor  for  a  suit  of  clothes.  Goldsmith  said 
he  wanted  them  but  for  a  single  occasion,  upon  which 
depended  his  appointment  to  a  situation  in  the  army ;  as 
soon  as  that  temporary  purpose  was  served  they  would 
either  be  returned  or  paid  for.  The  books  to  be  reviewed 

10  were  accordingly  lent  to  him;  the  Muse  was  again  set  to 
her  compulsory  drudgery;  the  articles  were  scribbled  off 
and  sent  to  the  bookseller,  and  the  clothes  came  in  due 
time  from  the  tailor. 

From  the  records  of  the  College  of  Surgeons,  it  appears 

15  that  Goldsmith  underwent  his  examination  at  Surgeons'  Hall, 
on  the  2ist  of  December,  1758.  Either  from  a  confusion 
of  mind  incident  to  sensitive  and  imaginative  persons  on 
such  occasions,  or  from  a  real  want  of  surgical  science, 
which  last  is  extremely  probable,  he  failed  in  his  examina- 

20  tion,  and  was  rejected  as  unqualified.  The  effect  of  such  a 
rejection  was  to  disqualify  him  for  every  branch  of  public 
service,  though  he  might  have  claimed  a  reexamination, 
after  the  interval  of  a  few  months  devoted  to  further  study. 
Such  a  reexamination  he  never  attempted,  nor  did  he  ever 

25  communicate  his  discomfiture  to  any  of  his  friends. 

On  Christmas-Day,  but  four  days  after  his  rejection  by 
the  College  of  Surgeons,  while  he  was  suffering  under  the 
mortification  of  defeat  and  disappointment,  and  hard  pressed 
for  means  of  subsistence,  he  was  surprised  by  the  entrance 

30  into  his  room  of  the  poor  woman  of  whom  he  hired  his 
wretched  apartment,  and  to  whom  he  owed  some  small 
arrears  of  rent.  She  had  a  piteous  tale  of  distress,  and 
was  clamorous  in  her  afflictions.  Her  husband  had  been 
arrested  in  the  night  for  debt,  and  thrown  into  prison.  This 


PUNISHMENT   FOR  AN   ACT  OF  CHARITY      91 

was  too  much  for  the  quick  feelings  of  Goldsmith;  he  was 
ready  at  any  time  to  help  the  distressed,  but  in  this  instance 
he  was  himself  in  some  measure  a  cause  of  the  distress. 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  He  had  no  money,  it  is  true ;  but 
there  hung  the  new  suit  of  clothes  in  which  he  had  stood  5 
his  unlucky  examination  at  Surgeons'  Hall.  Without  giving 
himself  time  for  reflection,  he  sent  it  off  to  the  pawnbroker's, 
and  raised  thereon  a  sufficient  sum  to  pay  off  his  own  debt, 
and  to  release  his  landlord  from  prison. 

Under  the  same  pressure  of  penury  and  despondency,  he  10 
borrowed  from  a  neighbor  a  pittance  to  relieve  his  imme- 
diate wants,  leaving  as  a  security  the  books  which  he  had 
recently  reviewed.     In  the  midst  of  these  straits  and  harass- 
ments,  he  received   a  letter  from  Griffiths,  demanding,  in 
peremptory  terms,  the  return  of  the  clothes  and  books,  or  15 
immediate  payment  for  the  same.     It  appears  that  he  had 
discovered  the  identical  suit  at   the   pawnbroker's.      The 
reply  of  Goldsmith  is  not  known  ;  it  was  out  of  his  power 
to  furnish  either  the  clothes  or  the  money ;  but  he  probably 
offered  once  more  to  make  the  Muse  stand  his  bail.     His  20 
reply  only  increased  the  ire  of  the  wealthy  man  of  trade, 
and  drew  from  him  another  letter  still  more  harsh  than  the 
first ;  using  the  epithets  of  knave  and  sharper,  and  contain- 
ing threats  of  prosecution  and  a  prison. 

The  following  letter  from  poor  Goldsmith  gives  the  most  25 
touching  picture  of  an  inconsiderate  but  sensitive  man,  har- 
assed by  care,  stung  by  humiliations,  and  driven  almost  to 
despondency. 

"  SIR,  —  I  know  of  no  misery  but  a  jail  to  which  my  own 
imprudences  and  your  letter  seem  to  point.     I  have  seen  30 
it  inevitable  these  three  or  four  weeks,  and,  by  heavens  ! 
request  it  as  a  favor  —  as  a  favor  that  may  prevent  some- 
thing more  fatal.     I  have  been  some  years  struggling  with 


92  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

a  wretched  being  —  with  all  that  contempt  that  indigence 
brings  with  it  —  with  all  those  passions  which  make  con- 
tempt insupportable.  What,  then,  has  a  jail  that  is  for- 
midable ?  I  shall  at  least  have  the  society  of  wretches,  and 
5  such  is  to  me  true  society.  I  tell  you,  again  and  again,  that 
I  am  neither  able  nor  willing  to  pay  you  a  farthing,'  but  I 
will  be  punctual  to  any  appointment  you  or  the  tailor  shall 
make  ;  thus  far,  at  least,  I  do  not  act  the  sharper,  since, 
unable  to  pay  my  own  debts  one  way,  I  would  generally 

10  give  some  security  another.     No,  sir  ;  had  I  been  a  sharper 
—  had  I  been  possessed  of  less  good-nature  and  native  gener- 
osity, I  might  surely  now  have  been  in  better  circumstances. 
"  I  am  guilty,  I  own,  of  meannesses  which  poverty  unavoid- 
ably brings  with  it :  my  reflections  are  filled  with  repentance 

15  for  my  imprudence,  but  not  with  any  remorse  for  being  a 
villain  :  that  may  be  a  character  you  unjustly  charge  me 
with.  Your. books,  I  can  assure  you,  are  neither  pawned 
nor  sold,  but  in  the  custody  of  a  friend,  from  whom  my 
necessities  obliged  me  to  borrow  some  money  :  whatever 

20  becomes  of  my  person,  you  shall  have  them  in  a  month.  It 
is  very  possible  both  the  reports  you  have  heard  and  your 
own  suggestions  may  have  brought  you  false  information 
with  respect  to  my  character  ;  it  is  very  possible  that  the 
man  whom  you  now  regard  with  detestation  may  inwardly 

25  burn  with  grateful  resentment.  It  is  very  possible  that, 
upon  a  second  perusal  of  the  letter  I  sent  you,  you  may  see 
the  workings  of  a  mind  strongly  agitated  with  gratitude  and 
jealousy.  If  such  circumstances  should  appear,  at  least 
spare  invective  till  my  book  with  Mr.  Dodsley  shall  be  pub- 

30  lished,  and  then,  perhaps,  you  may  see  the  bright  side  of 
a  mind,  when  my  professions  shall  not  appear  the  dictates 
of  necessity,  but  of  choice. 

"  You  seem  to  think  Dr.  Milner  knew  me  not.     Perhaps 
so  ;    but  he  was  a  man    I   shall  ever  honor  ;    but  I  have 


GREEN   ARBOR   COURT  93 

friendships  only  with  the  dead  !  I  ask  pardon  for  taking 
up  so  much  time  ;  nor  shall  I  add  to  it  by  any  other  pro- 
fessions than  that  I  am,  sir,  your  humble  servant, 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

"  P.  S.  —  I    shall   expect   impatiently  the  result  of   your    5 
resolutions." 

The  dispute  between  the  poet  and  the  publisher  was 
afterward  imperfectly  adjusted,  and  it  would  appear  that  the 
clothes  were  paid  for  by  a  short  compilation  advertised  by 
Griffiths  in  the  course  of  the  following  month  ;  but  the  10 
parties  were  never  really  friends  afterward,  and  the  writ- 
ings of  Goldsmith  were  harshly  and  unjustly  treated  in  the 
"  Monthly  Review." 

\Ye    have   given   the    preceding    anecdote    in    detail,  as 
furnishing  one  of  the  many  instances  in  which  Goldsmith's  15 
prompt  and  benevolent   impulses  outran   all   prudent  fore- 
cast, and  involved  him  in  difficulties  and  disgraces  which  a 
more  selfish  man  would  have  avoided.     The  pawning  of  the 
clothes,  charged  upon  him  as  a  crime  by  the  grinding  book- 
seller,   and   apparently  admitted    by  him  as   one  of   "the  20 
meannesses   which    poverty   unavoidably   brings   with    it," 
resulted,  as  we  have  shown,  from  a  tenderness  of  heart  and 
generosity  of  hand,  in  which  another  man  would  have  glo- 
ried ;  but  these  were  such  natural  elements  with  him,  that 
he  was  unconscious  of  their  merit.     It  is  a  pity  that  wealth  25 
does  not  oftener  bring  such  "  meannesses  "  in  its  train. 

And  now  let  us  be  indulged  in  a  few  particulars  about 
these  lodgings  in  which  Goldsmith  was  guilty  of  this  thought- 
less act  of  benevolence.  They  were  in  a  very  shabby  house, 
No.  1 2  Green  Arbor  Court,  between  the  Old  Bailey  and  Fleet  30 
Market.  An  old  woman  was  still  living  in  1820  who  was  a 
relative  of  the  identical  landlady  whom  Goldsmith  relieved 
by  the  money  received  from  the  pawnbroker.  She  was  a 


.  94  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

child  about  seven  years  of  age  at  the  time  that  the  poet 
rented  his  apartment  of  her  relative,  and  used  frequently  to 
be  at  the  house  in  Green  Arbor  Court.  She  was  drawn 
there,  in  a  great  measure,  by  the  good-humored  kindness  of 
5  Goldsmith,  who  was  always  exceedingly  fond  of  the  society 
of  children.  He  used  to  assemble  those  of  the  family  in  his 
room,  give  them  cakes  and  sweetmeats,  and  set  them  dan- 
cing to  the  sound  of  his  flute.  He  was  very  friendly  to  those 
around  him,  and  cultivated  a  kind  of  intimacy  with  a  watch- 

10  maker  in  the  Court,  who  possessed  much  native  wit  and 
humor.  He  passed  most  of  the  day,  however,  in  his  room, 
and  only  went  out  in  the  evenings.  His  days  were  no  doubt 
devoted  to  the  drudgery  of  the  pen,  and  it  would  appear  that 
he  occasionally  found  the  booksellers  urgent  task-masters. 

15  On  one  occasion  a  visitor  was  shown  up  to  his  room,  and 
immediately  their  voices  were  heard  in  high  altercation,  and 
the  key  was  turned  within  the  lock.  The  landlady,  at  first, 
was  disposed  to  go  to  the  assistance  of  her  lodger ;  but  a 
calm  succeeding,  she  forbore  to  interfere. 

20  Late  in  the  evening  the  door  was  unlocked;  a  supper 
ordered  by  the  visitor  from  a  neighboring  tavern,  and  Gold- 
smith and  his  intrusive  guest  finished  the  evening  in  great 
good-humor.  It  was  probably  his  old  task-master  Griffiths, 
whose  press  might  have  been  waiting,  and  who  found  no 

25  other  mode  of  getting  a  stipulated  task  from  Goldsmith  than 
by  locking  him  in,  and  staying  by  him  until  it  was  finished. 
But  we  have  a  more  particular  account  of  these  lodgings 
in  Green  Arbor  Court  from  the  Rev.  Thomas  Percy,  after- 
ward Bishop  of  Dromore,  and  celebrated  for  his  relics  of 

30  ancient  poetry,  his  beautiful  ballads,  and  other  works.  Dur- 
ing an  occasional  visit  to  London,  he  was  introduced  to 
Goldsmith  by  Grainger,  and  ever  after  continued  one  of 
his  most  steadfast  and  valued  friends.  The  following  is  his 
description  of  the  poet's  squalid  apartment  :  "  I  called  on 


GREEN  ARBOR  COURT  95 

Goldsmith  at  his  lodgings  in  March,  1759,  and  found  him 
writing  his  '  Inquiry,'  in  a  miserable,  dirty-looking  room,  in 
which  there  was  but  one  chair  ;  and  when,  from  civility, 
he  resigned  it  to  me,  he  himself  was  obliged  to  sit  in  the 
window.  While  we  were  conversing  together,  some  one  5 
tapped  gently  at  the  door,  and,  being  desired  to  come  in,  a 
poor,  ragged  little  girl,  of  a  very  becoming  demeanor,  entered 
the  room,  and  dropping  a  courtesy,  said,  '  My  mamma  sends 
her  compliments,  and  begs  the  favor  of  you  to  lend  her  a 
chamber-pot  full  of  coals.'  "  10 

We  are  reminded  in  this  anecdote  of  Goldsmith's  picture 
of  the  lodgings  of  Beau  Tibbs,  and  of. the  peep  into  the 
secrets  of  a  make-shift  establishment  given  to  a  visitor  by 
the  blundering  old  Scotch  woman. 

"  By  this  time  we  were  arrived  as  high  as  the  stairs  would  15 
permit  us  to  ascend,  till  we  came  to  what  he  was  facetiously 
pleased  to  call  the  first  floor  down  the  chimney  ;  and,  knock- 
ing at,  the   door,  a  voice  from  within  demanded   'Wrho's 
there  ? '     My  conductor  answered  that  it  was  him.     But  this 
not   satisfying   the   querist,  the   voice   again   repeated  the  20 
demand,  to  which   he   answered   louder  than  before ;   and 
now  the  door  was  opened  by  an  old  woman  with  cautious 
reluctance. 

"  When  we  got  in,  he  welcomed  me  to  his  house  with  great 
ceremony  ;  and,  turning  to  the  old  woman,  asked  where  was  25 
her  lady.  '  Good  troth,'  replied  she,  in  a  peculiar  dialect, 
'  she  's  washing  your  twa  shirts  at  the  next  door,  because 
they  have  taken  an  oath  against  lending  the  tub  any  longer.' 
'  My  two  shirts,'  cried  he,  in  a  tone  that  faltered  with  con- 
fusion ;  '  what  does  the  idiot  mean  ? '  'I  ken  what  I  mean  30 
weel  enough,'  replied-  the  other ;  '  she  's  washing  your  twa 
shirts  at  the  next  door,  because '  —  <  Fire  and  fury  !  no  more 
of  thy  stupid  explanations,'  cried  he  ;  'go  and  inform  her  we 
have  company.  Were  that  Scotch  hag  to  be  forever  in  my 


^6  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

family,  she  would  never  learn  politeness,  nor  forget  that 
absurd  poisonous  accent  of  hers,  or  testify  the  smallest  speci- 
men of  breeding  or  high  life;  and  yet  it  is  very  surprising 
too,  as  I  had  her  from  a  Parliament  man,  a  friend  of  mine 
5  from  the  Highlands,  one  of  the  politest  men  in  the  world ; 
but  that 's  a  secret.'  "  1 

Let  us  linger  a  little  in  Green  Arbor  Court,  a  place  con- 
secrated by  the  genius  and  the  poverty  of  Goldsmith,  but 
recently  obliterated  in  the  course  of  modern  improvements. 

10  The  writer  of  this  memoir  visited  it  not  many  years  since  on 
a  literary  pilgrimage,  and  may  be  excused  for  repeating  a 
description  of  it  which  he  has  heretofore  inserted  in  another 
publication.  "  It  then  existed  in  its  pristine  state,  and  was 
a  small  square  of  tall  and  miserable  houses,  the  very  intes- 

15  tines  of  which  seemed  turned  inside  out,  to  judge  from  the 
old  garments  and  frippery  that  fluttered  from  every  window. 
It  appeared  to  be  a  region  of  washerwomen,  and  lines  were 
stretched  about  the  little  square,  on  which  clothes  were  dan- 
gling to  dry. 

20  "  Just  as  we  entered  the  square,  a  scuffle  took  place  between 
two  viragoes  about  a  disputed  right  to  a  wash-tub,  and  imme- 
diately the  whole  community  was  in  a  hubbub.  Heads  in 
mob-caps  popped  out  of  every  window,  and  such  a  clamor 
of  tongues  ensued  that  I  was  fain  to  stop  my  ears.  Every 

25  amazon  took  part  with  one  or  other  of  the  disputants,  and 
brandished  her  arms,  dripping  with  soapsuds,  and  fired  away 
from  her  window  as  from  the  embrasure  of  a  fortress  ;  while 
the  screams  of  children  nestled  and  cradled  in  every  pro- 
creant  chamber  of  this  hive,  waking  with  the  noise,  set  up 

30  their  shrill  pipes  to  swell  the  general  concert."  2 

While  in  these  forlorn  quarters,  suffering  under  extreme 
depression  of  spirits,  caused  by  his  failure  at  Surgeons'  Hall, 

1  Citizen  of  the  World,  letter  iv. 

2  Tales  of  a  Traveller. 


LETTER   TO    HIS   BROTHER   HENRY  97 

the  disappointment  of  his  hopes,  and  his  harsh  collisions 
with  Griffiths,  Goldsmith  wrote  the  following  letter  to  his 
brother  Henry,  some  parts  of  which  are  most  touchingly 
mournful. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  -  5 

"Your  punctuality  in  answering  a  man  whose  trade  is 
writing,  is  more  than  I  had  reason  to  expect;  and  yet  you 
see  me  generally  fill  a  whole  sheet,  which  is  all  the  recom- 
pense I  can  make  for  being  so  frequently  troublesome.  The 
behavior  of  Mr.  Mills  and  Mr.  Lawder  is  a  little  extraordi-  10 
nary.  However,  their  answering  neither  you  nor  me  is  a 
sufficient  indication  of  their  disliking  the  employment  which 
I  assigned  them.  As  their  conduct  is  different  from  what 
I  had  expected,  so  I  have  made  an  alteration  in  mine.  I 
shall,  the  beginning  of  next  month,  send  over  two  hundred  15 
and  fifty  books,1  which  are  all  that  I  fancy  can  be  well  sold 
among  you,  and  I  would  have  you  make  some  distinction  in 
the  persons  who  have  subscribed.  The  money,  which  will 
amount  to  sixty  pounds,  may  be  left  with  Mr.  Bradley  as 
soon  as  possible.  I  am  not  certain  but  I  shall  quickly  have  20 
occasion  for  it. 

"  I  have  met  with  no  disappointment  with  respect  to  my 
East  India  voyage,  nor  are  my  resolutions  altered ;  though, 
at  the  same  time,  I  must  confess,  it  gives  me  some  pain  to 
think  I  am  almost  beginning  the  world  at  the  age  of  thirty-  25 
one.     Though  I  never  had  a  day's  sickness  since  I  saw  you, 
yet  I  am  not  that  strong,  active  man  you  once  knew  me. 
You  scarcely  can  conceive  how  much  eight  years  of  disap- 
pointment, anguish,  and  study  have  worn  me  down.     If  I 
remember  right,  you  are  seven  or  eight  years  older  than  me,  30 
yet  I  dare  venture  to  say,  that,  if  a  stranger  saw  us  both,  he 

l  The  "  Inquiry  into  Polite  Literature."     His  previous  remarks  apply  to  the 
subscription. 


98  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

would  pay  me  the  honors  of  seniority.  Imagine  to  yourself 
a  pale,  melancholy  visage,  with  two  great  wrinkles  between 
the  eyebrows,  with  an  eye  disgustingly  severe,  and  a  big  wig, 
and  you  may  have  a  perfect  picture  of  my  present  appearance. 
5  On  the  other  hand,  I  conceive  you  as  perfectly  sleek  and 
healthy,  passing  many  a  happy  day  among  your  own  children, 
or  those  who  knew  you  a  child. 

"  Since  I  knew  what  it  was  to  be  a  man,  this  is  a  pleasure 
I  have  not  known.  I  have  passed  my  days  among  a  parcel 

10  of  cool,  designing  beings,  and  have  contracted  all  their  sus- 
picious manner  in  my  own  btfhavior.  I  should  actually  be 
as  unfit  for  the  society  of  my  friends  at  home,  as  I  detest 
that  which  I  am  obliged  to  partake  bf  here.  I  can  now 
neither  partake  of  the  pleasure  of  a  revel,  or  contribute  to 

15  raise  its  jollity.  I  can  neither  laugh  nor  drink;  have  con- 
tracted a  hesitating,  disagreeable  manner  of  speaking,  and  a 
visage  that  looks  ill-nature  itself ;  in  short,  I  have  thought 
myself  into  a  settled  melancholy,  and  an  utter  disgust  of  all 
that  life  brings  with  it.  Whence  this  romantic  turn  that  all 

20  our  family  are  possessed  with  ?  Whence  this  love  for  every 
place  and  every  country  but  that  in  which  we  reside  —  for 
every  occupation  but  our  own  ?  this  'desire  of  fortune,  and 
yet  this  eagerness  to  dissipate  ?  I  perceive,  my  dear  sir, 
that  I  am  at  intervals  for  indulging  this  splenetic  manner, 

25  and  following  my  own  taste,  regardless  of  yours. 

"The  reasons. you  have  given  me  for  breeding  up  your 
son  a  scholar  are  judicious  and  convincing;  I  should,  how- 
ever, be  glad  to  know  for  what  particular  profession  he  is 
designed.  If  he  be  assiduous  and  divested  of  strong  passions 

30  (for  passions  in  youth  always  lead  to  pleasure),  he  may  do 
very  well  in  your  college  ;  for  it  must  be  owned  that  the 
industrious  poor  have  good  encouragement  there,  perhaps 
better  than  in  any  other  in  Europe.  But  if  he  has  ambition, 
strong  passions,  and  an  exquisite  sensibility  of  contempt,  do 


WORLDLY  WISDOM  99 

not  send  him  there,  unless  you  have  no  other  trade  for  him 
but  your  own.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  how  much  may 
be  done  by  proper  education  at  home.  A  boy,  for  instance, 
who  understands  perfectly  well  Latin,  French,  arithmetic, 
and  the  principles  of  the  civil  law,  and  can  write  a  fine  hand,  5 
has  an  education  that  may  qualify  him  for  any  undertaking; 
and  these  parts  of  learning  should  be  carefully  inculcated, 
let  him  be  designed  for  whatever  calling  he  will. 

"  Above  all  things,  let  him  never  touch  a  romance  or 
novel  :  these  paint  beauty  in  colors  more  charming  than  10 
nature,  and  describe  happiness  that  man  never  tastes.  How 
delusive,  how  destructive  are  those  pictures  of  consummate 
bliss !  They  teach  the  youthful  mind  to  sigh  after  beauty 
and  happiness  that  never  existed ;  to  despise  the  little  good 
which  fortune  has  mixed  in  our  cup,  by  expecting  more  than  15 
she  ever  gave  ;  and,  in  general,  take  the  word  of  a  man  who 
has  seen  the  world,  and  who  has  studied  human  nature  more 
by  experience  than  precept ;  take  my  word  for  it,  I  say,  that 
books  teach  us  very  little  of  the  world.  The  greatest  merit 
in  a  state  of  poverty  would  only  serve  to  make  the  possessor  20 
ridiculous  —  may  distress,  but  cannot  relieve  him.  Fru- 
gality, and  even  avarice,  in  the  lower  orders  of  mankind, 
are  true  ambition.  These  afford  the  only  ladder  for  the  poor 
to  rise  to  preferment.  Teach  then,  my  dear  sir,  to  your  son, 
thrift  and  economy.  Let  his  poor  wandering  uncle's  example  25 
be  placed  before  his  eyes.  I  had  learned  from  books  to  be 
disinterested  and  generous,  before  I  was  taught  from  expe- 
rience the  necessity  of  being  prudent.  I  had  contracted  the 
habits  and  notions  of  a  philosopher,  while  I  was  exposing 
myself  to  the  approaches  of  insidious  cunning;  and  often  30 
by  being,  even  with  my  narrow  finances,  charitable  to  excess, 
I  forgot  the  rules  of  justice,  and  placed  myself  in  the  very 
situation  of  the  wretch  who  thanked  me  for  my  bounty. 
When  I  am  in  the  remotest  part  of  the  world,  tell  him  this, 


100  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

and  perhaps  he  may  improve  from  my  example.     But  I  find 
myself  again  falling  into  my  gloomy  habits  of  thinking. 

"  My  mother,  I  am  informed,  is  almost  blind  ;  even  though 
I  had  the  utmost  inclination  to  return  home,  under  such 
5  circumstances  I  could  not,  for  to  behold  her  in  distress  with- 
out a  capacity  of  relieving  her  from  it,  would  add  much  to 
my  splenetic  habit.  Your  last  letter  was  much  too  short; 
it  should  have  answered  some  queries  I  had  made  in  my 
former.  Just  sit  down  as  I  do,  and  write  forward  until  you 

10  have  filled  all  your  paper.  It  requires  no  thought,  at  least 
from  the  ease  with  which  my  own  sentiments  rise  when 
they  are  addressed  to  you.  For,  believe  me,  my  head  has 
no  share  in  all  I  write  ;  my  heart  dictates  the  whole.  Pray 
give  my  love  to  Bob  Bryanton,  and  entreat  him  from  me 

15  not  to  drink.  My  dear  sir,  give  me  some  account  about 
poor  Jenny.1  Yet  her  husband  loves  her :  if  so,  she  cannot 
be  unhappy. 

"  I  know  not  whether  I  should  tell  you  —  yet  why  should 
I    conceal    these    trifles,    or,    indeed,    anything   from    you? 

20  There  is  a  book  of  mine  will  be  published  in  a  few  days : 
the  life  of  a  very  extraordinary  man  :  no  less  than  the  great 
Voltaire.  You  know  already  by  the  title  that  it  is  no  more 
than  a  catchpenny.  However,  I  spent  but  four  weeks  on 
the  whole  performance,  for  which  I  received  twenty  pounds. 

25  When  published,  I  shall  take  some  method  of  conveying  it 
to  you,  unless  you  may  think  it  dear  of  the  postage,  which 
may  amount  to  four  or  five  shillings.  However,  I  fear  you 
will  not  find  an  equivalent  of  amusement. 

"Your  last  letter,  I  repeat  it,  was  too  short;  you  should 

30  have  given  me  your  opinion  of  the  design  of  the  heroi-comi- 
cal  poem  which  I  sent  you.  You  remember  I  intended  to  in- 
troduce the  hero  of  the  poem  as  lying  in  a  paltry  ale-house. 

1  His  sister,  Mrs.  Johnston ;  her  marriage,  like  that  of  Mrs.  Hodson,  was 
private,  but  in  pecuniary  matters  much  less  fortunate. 


LETTER   TO    HIS    BROTHER   HENRY  IO1 

You  may  take  the  following  specimen  of  the  manner,  which 
I  flatter  myself  is  quite  original.  The  room  in  which  he 
lies  may  be  described  somewhat  in  this  way:  — 

"  '  The  window,  patched  with  paper,  lent  a  ray 

That  feebly  show'd  the  state  in  which  he  lay ;  5 

The  sanded  floor  that  grits  beneath  the  tread, 

The  humid  wall  with  paltry  pictures  spread; 

The  game  of  goose  was  there  exposed  to  view, 

And  the  twelve  rules  the  royal  martyr  drew; 

The  Seasons,  framed  with  listing,  found  a  place,  10 

And  Prussia's  monarch  show'd  his  lamp-black  face. 

The  morn  was  cold :  he  views  with  keen  desire 

A  rusty  grate  unconscious  of  a  fire ; 

An  unpaid  reckoning  on  the  frieze  was  scored, 

And  five  crack'd  tea-cups  dress'd  the  chimney-board.'  15 

"And  now  imagine,  after  his  soliloquy,  the  landlord 
to  make  his  appearance  in  order  to  dun  him  for  the 
reckoning :  — 

"  '  Not  with  that  face,  so  servile  and  so  gay, 

That  welcomes  every  stranger  that  can  pay  :  20 

With  sulky  eye  he  smoked  the  patient  man, 

Then  pull'd  his  breeches  tight,  and  thus  began,'  &C.1 

"  All  this  is  taken,  you  see,  from  nature.     It  is  a  good 
remark   of    Montaigne's,  that    the    wisest  men    often    have 
friends  with  whom  they  do  not  care  how  much   they  play  25 
the  fool.     Take  my  present  follies  as  instances  of  my  regard. 
Poetry  is  a  much  easier  and  more  agreeable  species  of  com- 
position than  prose  ;  and,  could  a  man  live  by  it,  it  were 
not  unpleasant  employment  to  be  a  poet.     I  am  resolved  to 
leave  no  space,  though   I   should  fill  it  up  only  by  telling  30 
you,  what  you  very  well  know  already,  I  mean  that  I   am 
your  most  affectionate  friend  and  brother, 

"OLIVER    GOLDSMITH." 

1  The  projected  poem,  of  which  the  above  were  specimens,  appears  never  to 
have  been  completed. 


102  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

The  "  Life  of  Voltaire,"  alluded  to  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
preceding  letter,  was  the  literary  job  undertaken  to  satisfy 
the  demands  of  Griffiths.  It  was  to  have  preceded  a  trans- 
lation of  the  "  Henriade,"  by  Ned  Purdon,  Goldsmith's  old 
5  schoolmate,  now  a  Grub-Street  writer,  who  starved  rather 
than  lived  by  the  exercise  of  his  pen,  and  often  tasked 
Goldsmith's  scanty  means  to  relieve  his  hunger.  His  mis- 
erable career  was  summed  up  by  our  poet  in  the  following 
lines  written  some  years  after  the  time  we  are  treating  of, 
10  on  hearing  that  he  had  suddenly  dropped  dead  in  Smith- 
field:— 

"  Here  lies  poor  Ned  Purdon,  from  misery  freed, 

Who  long  was  a  bookseller's  hack  ; 
He  led  such  a  damnable  life  in  this  world, 
15  I  don't  think  he  '11  wish  to  come  back." 

The  memoir  and  translation,  though  advertised  to  form 
a  volume,  were  not  published  together,  but  appeared  sepa- 
rately in  a  magazine. 

As  to  the  heroi-comical  poem,  also,  cited  in  the  forego- 

20  ing  letter,  it  appears  to  have  perished  in  embryo.  Had  it 
been  brought  to  maturity,  we  should  have  had  further  traits 
of  autobiography ;  the  room  already  described  was  probably 
his  own  squalid  quarters  in  Green  Arbor  Court ;  and  in  a 
subsequent  morsel  of  the  poem  we  have  the  poet  himself, 

25  under  the  euphonious  name  of  Scroggin  :  — 

"  Where  the  Red  Lion  peering  o'er  the  way, 
Invites  each  passing  stranger  that  can  pay ; 
Where  Calvert's  butt  and  Parson's  black  champaigne 
Regale  the  drabs  and  bloods  of  Drury  Lane : 
30  There,  in  a  lonely  room,  from  bailiffs  snug, 

The  muse  found  Scroggin  stretch'd  beneath  a  rug ; 
A  nightcap  deck'd  his  brows  instead  of  bay, 
A  cap  by  night,  a  stocking  all  the  day  !  " 


MOCK-HEROIC   POEM  103 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  this  poetical  conception  was  not 
carried  out;  like  the  author's  other  writings,  it  might  have 
abounded  with  pictures  of  life  and  touches  of  nature  4rawn 
from  his  own  observation  and  experience,  and  mellowed  by 
his  own  humane  and  tolerant  spirit;  and  might  have  been 
a  worthy  companion  or  rather  contrast  to  his  "  Traveller  " 
and  "  Deserted  Village,"  and  have  remained  in  the  language 
a  first-rate  specimen  of  the  mock-heroic. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Comment  on  the  aptness  of  Goldsmith's  direction  to  his  brother 
Henry  about  how  to  write  a  letter.     What  are  the  essentials  of  good 
letter  writing  to  a  friend?     What  are  the  fundamentals  of  good  busi- 
ness letters  ? 

2.  Compare  the  amount  of  time  Goldsmith  spent  on  his  "  Life  of  Vol- 
taire "  with  the  time  Irving  spent  in  preparing  his  "  Life  of  Goldsmith." 

3.  Goldsmith  says  that  poetry  is  an  easier  species  of  composition 
than  prose.     Do  you  find  this  to  be  true  ?     Put  in  verse  form  a  picture 
of  Goldsmith  at  this  period. 

4.  Irving  suggests  that  Goldsmith  was  doomed  to  disappointment. 
Why  should  this  be  true?     What  do  you  conjecture  will  be  some  of 
his  further  disappointments  in  life  ? 

5.  Why  was  Goldsmith  rejected  by  the  College  of  Surgeons? 

6.  Incidents  in  Goldsmith's  life  at   his  forlorn  quarters   in  Green 
Arbor  Court.     Describe  Green  Arbor  Court  as  seen  by  Irving. 

7.  What    is    meant    by   the    mock-heroic  ?     Write    a    mock-heroic 
account  of  the  rejection  of   Goldsmith  by  the  surgeons.     [Introduce 
conversation.] 


CHAPTER  XI 

Publicatiop  of  "The  Inquiry" — Attack  by  Griffiths'  Review — Kenrick  the 
Literary  Ishmaelite  —  Periodical  Literature  —  Goldsmith's  Essays  —  Gar- 
rick  as  a  Manager  —  Smollett  and  his  Schemes — Change  of  Lodgings  — 
The  Robin  Hood  Club. 

Towards  the  end  of  March,  1759,  the  treatise  on  which 
Goldsmith  had  laid  so  much  stress,  on  which  he  at  one 
time  had  calculated  to  defray  the  expenses  of  his  outfit  to 
India,  and  to  which  he  had  adverted  in  his  correspondence 
5  with  Griffiths,  made  its  appearance.  It  was  published  by 
the  Dodsleys,  and  entitled  "  An  Inquiry  into  the  Present 
State  of  Polite  Learning  in  Europe." 

In  the  present  day,  when  the  whole  field  of  contemporary 
literature  is  so  widely  surveyed  and  amply  discussed,  and 

10  when  the  current  productions  of  every  country  are  con- 
stantly collated  and  ably  criticised,  a  treatise  like  that  of 
Goldsmith  would  be  considered  as  extremely  limited  and 
unsatisfactory ;  but  at  that  time  it  possessed  novelty  in  its 
views  and  wideness  in  its  scope,  and  being  indued  with  the 

15  peculiar  charm  of  style  inseparable  from  the  author,  it  com- 
manded public  attention  and  a  profitable  sale.  As  it  was 
the  most  important  production  that  had  yet  come  from 
Goldsmith's  pen,  he  was  anxious  to  have  the  credit  of  it; 
yet  it  appeared  without  his  name  on  the  title-page.  The 

20  authorship,  however,  was  well  known  throughout  the  world 
of  letters,  and  the  author  had  now  grown  into  sufficient 
literary  importance  to  become  an  object  of  hostility  to  the 
underlings  of  the  press.  One  of  the  most  virulent  attacks 
upon  him  was  in  a  criticism  on  this  treatise,  and  appeared 

25  in  the  "Monthly  Review"  to  which  he  himself  had  been 

104 


ATTACK  BY   GRIFFITHS'   REVIEW  105 

recently  a  contributor.  It  slandered  him  as  a  man  while 
it  decried  him  as  an  author,  and  accused  him,  by  innuendo, 
of  "laboring  under  the  infamy  of  having,  by  the  vilest  and 
meanest  actions,  forfeited  all  pretensions  to  honor  and  hon- 
esty," and  of  practising  "those  acts  which  bring  the  sharper  5 
to  the  cart's  tail  or  the  pillory." 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Review  was  owned  by 
Griffiths  the  bookseller,  with  whom  Goldsmith  had  recently 
had  a  misunderstanding.  The  criticism,  therefore,  was  no 
doubt  dictated  by  the  lingerings  of  resentment;  and  the  10 
imputations  upon  Goldsmith's  character  for  honor  and  hon- 
esty, and  the  vile  and  mean  actions  hinted  at,  could  only 
allude  to  the  unfortunate  pawning  of  the  clothes.  All  this, 
too,  was  after  Griffiths  had  received  the  affecting  letter  from 
Goldsmith,  drawing  a  picture  of  his  poverty  and  perplexities,  15 
and  after  the  latter  had  made  him  a  literary  compensation. 
Griffiths,  in  fact,  was  sensible  of  the  falsehood  and  extrava- 
gance of  the  attack,  and  tried  to  exonerate  himself  by  declar- 
ing that  the  criticism  was  written  by  a  person  in  his  employ; 
but  we  see  no  difference  in  atrocity  between  him  who  wields  20 
the  knife  and  him  who  hires  the  cut-throat.  It  may  be  well, 
however,  in  passing,  to  bestow  our  mite  of  notoriety  upon 
the  miscreant  who  launched  the  slander.  He  deserves  it 
for  a  long  course  of  dastardly  and  venomous  attacks,  not 
merely  upon  Goldsmith,  but  upon  most  of  the  successful  25 
authors  of  the  day.  His  name  was  Kenrick.  He  was  origi- 
nally a  mechanic,  but,  possessing  some  degree  of  talent 
and  industry,  applied  himself  to  literature  as  a  profession. 
This  he  pursued  for  many  years,  and  tried  his  hand  in  every 
department  of  prose  and  poetry ;  he  wrote  plays  and  satires,  30 
philosophical  tracts,  critical  dissertations,  and  works  on  phi- 
lology; nothing  from  his  pen  ever  rose  to  first-rate  excel- 
lence, or  gained  him  a  popular  name,  though  he  received  from 
some  university  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws.  Dr.  Johnson 


106  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

characterized  his  literary  career  in  one  short  sentence.  "  Sir, 
he  is  one  of  the  many  who  have  made  themselves  public 
without  making  themselves  known" 

Soured  by  his  own  want  of  success,  jealous  of  the  suc- 

5  cess  of  others,  his  natural  irritability  of  temper  increased  by 

habits  of  intemperance,  he  at  length  abandoned  himself  to 

the  practice  of  reviewing,  and  became  one  of  the  Ishmaelites 

of  the  press.    In  this  his  malignant  bitterness  soon  gave  him 

a  notoriety  which  his  talents  had  never  been  able  to  attain. 

10  We  shall  dismiss  him  for  the  present  with  the  following 

sketch  of  him  by  the  hand  of  one  of  his  contemporaries :  — 

"  Dreaming  of  genius  which  he  never  had, 
Half  wit,  half  fool,  half  critic,  and  half  mad ; 
Seizing,  like  Shirley,  on  the  poet's  lyre, 

15  With  all  his  rage,  but  not  one  spark  of  fire; 

Eager  for  slaughter,  and  resolved  to  tear 
From  other's  brows  that  wreath  he  must  not  wear  — 
Next  Kenrick  came  :  all  furious  and  replete 
With  brandy,  malice,  pertness,  and  conceit ; 

20  Unskill'd  in  classic  lore,  through  envy  blind 

To  all  that 's  beauteous,  learned,  or  refined ; 
For  faults  alone  behold  the  savage  prowl, 
With  reason's  offal  glut  his  ravening  soul ; 
Pleased  with  his  prey,  its  inmost  blood  he  drinks, 

25  And  mumbles,  paws,  and  turns  it  —  till  it  stinks." 

The  British  press  about  this  time  was  extravagantly  fruit- 
ful of  periodical  publications.  That  "oldest  inhabitant," 
the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  almost  coeval  with  St.  John's 
gate  which  graced  its  title-page,  had  long  been  elbowed  by 

30  magazines  and  reviews  of  all  kinds  :  Johnson's  "  Rambler  " 
had  introduced  the  fashion  of  periodical  essays,  which  he 
had  followed  up  in  his  "Adventurer"  and  "Idler."  Imita- 
tions had  sprung  up  on  every  side,  under  every  variety  of 
name;  until  British  literature  was  entirely  overrun  by  a 

35  weedy  and  transient  efflorescence.      Many  of  these  rival 


GARRICK  AS  A  MANAGER  107 

periodicals  choked  each  other  almost  at  the  outset,  and  few 
of  them  have  escaped  oblivion. 

Goldsmith  wrote  for  some  of  the  most  successful,  such  as 
the  "  Bee,"  the  "  Busy-Body,"  and  the  "  Lady's  Magazine." 
His  essays,  though  characterized  by  his  delightful  style,  5 
his  pure,  benevolent  morality,  and  his  mellow,  unobtrusive 
humor,  did  not  produce  equal  effect  at  first  with  more  gar- 
ish writings  of  infinitely  less  value ;  they  did  not  "  strike," 
as  it  is  termed ;  but  they  had  that  rare  and  enduring  merit 
which  rises  in  estimation  on  every  perusal.  They  gradually  10 
stole  upon  the  heart  of  the  public,  were  copied  into  numer- 
ous contemporary  publications,  and  now  they  are  garnered 
up  among  the  choice  productions  of  British  literature. 

In  his  "  Inquiry  into  the  State  of  Polite  Learning,"  Gold- 
smith had  given  offence  to  David  Garrick,  at  that  time  auto-  15 
crat  of  the  Drama,  and  was  doomed  to  experience  its  effect. 
A  clamor  had  been  raised  against  Garrick  for  exercising  a 
despotism  over  the  stage,  and  bringing  forward  nothing  but 
old  plays  to  the  exclusion  of  original  productions.     Walpole 
joined  in  this  charge.     "  Garrick,"  said  he,  "  is  treating  the  20 
town  as  it  deserves  and  likes  to  be  treated,  —  with  scenes; 
fire-works,  and  his  own  writings.     A  good  new  play  I  never 
expect  to  see  more  ;  nor  have  seen  since  the  '  Provoked 
Husband,'  which  came  out  when  I  was  at  school."     Gold- 
smith, who  was  extremely  fond  -of  the  theatre,  and  felt  the  25 
evils  of  this  system,  inveighed  in  his  treatise  against  the 
wrongs  experienced  by  authors  at  the  hands  of  managers. 
"  Our  poet's  performance,"  said  he,  "must  undergo  a  process 
truly  chemical  before  it  is  presented  to  the  public.     It  must 
be  tried  in  the  manager's  fire ;  strained  through  a  licenser,  30 
suffer  from  repeated  corrections,  till  it  may  be  a  mere  caput 
mortuum   when   it  arrives  before   the    public."      Again,— 
"  Getting  a  play  on  even  in  three  or  four  years  is  a  privilege 
reserved  only  for  the  happy  few  who  have  the  arts  of  courting 


.108  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

the  manager  as  well  as  the  Muse  ;  who  have  adulation  to 
please  his  vanity,  powerful  patrons  to  support  their  merit, 
or  money  to  indemnify  disappointment.  Our  Saxon  ances- 
tors had  but  one  name  for  a  wit  and  a  witch.  I  will  not 
5  dispute  the  propriety  of  uniting  those  characters  then  ;  but 
the  man  who  under  present  discouragements  ventures  to  write 
for  the  stage,  whatever  claim  he  may  have  to  the  appellation 
of  a  wit,  at  least  has  no  right  to  be  called  a  conjurer."  But 
a  passage  which  perhaps  touched  more  sensibly  than  all  the 

10  rest  on  the  sensibilities  of  Garrick,  was  the  following  :  — 

"  I  have  no  particular  spleen  against  the  fellow  who 
sweeps  the  stage  with  the  besom,  or  the  hero  who  brushes 
it  with  his  train.  It  were  a  matter  of  indifference  to  me, 
whether  our  heroines  are  in  keeping,  or  our  candle-snuffers 

15  burn  their  fingers,  did  not  such  make  a  great  part  of  public 
care  and  polite  conversation.  Our  actors  assume  all  that 
state  off  the  stage  which  they  do  on  it;  and,  to  use  an 
expression  borrowed  from  the  green-room,  every  one  is  up 
in  his  part.  I  am  sorry  to  say  it,  they  seem  to  forget  their 

to  real  characters." 

These  strictures  were  considered  by  Garrick  as  intended 
for  himself,  and  they  were  rankling  in  his  mind  when  Gold- 
smith waited  upon  him  and  solicited  his  vote  for  the  vacant 
secretaryship  of  the  Society  of  Arts,  of  which  the  manager 

25  was  a  member.  Garrick,  puffed  up  by  his  dramatic  renown 
and  his  intimacy  with  the  great,  and  knowing  Goldsmith 
only  by  his  budding  reputation,  may  not  have  considered 
him  of  sufficient  importance  to  be  conciliated.  In  reply  to 
his  solicitations,  he  observed  that  he  could  hardly  expect 

30  his  friendly  exertions  after  the  unprovoked  attack  he  had 
made  upon  his  management.  Goldsmith  replied  that  he 
had  indulged  in  no  personalities,  and  had  only  spoken  what 
he  believed  to  be  the  truth.  He  made  no  further  apology  nor 
application  ;  failed  to  get  the  appointment,  and  considered 


THE   -CHINESE    LETTERS"  109 

Garrick  his  enemy.  In  the  second  edition  of  his  treatise 
he  expunged  or  modified  the  passages  which  had  given  the 
manager  offence ;  but  though  the  author  and  actor  became 
intimate  in  after-years,  this  false  step  at  the  outset  of  their 
intercourse  was  never  forgotten.  5 

About  this  time  Goldsmith  engaged  with  Dr.  Smollett, 
who  was  about  to  launch  the  "  British  Magazine."  Smollett 
was  a  complete  schemer  and  speculator  in  literature,  and 
intent  upon  enterprises  that  had  money  rather  than  reputa- 
tion in  view.  Goldsmith  has  a  good-humored  hit  at  this  10 
propensity  in  one  of  his  papers  in  the  "Bee,"  in  which  he 
represents  Johnson,  Hume,  and  others  taking  seats  in  the 
stage-coach  bound  for  Fame,  while  Smollett  prefers  that 
destined  for  Riches. 

Another  prominent  employer  of  Goldsmith  was  Mr.  John  15 
Newbery,  who  engaged  him  to  contribute  occasional  essays 
to  a  newspaper  entitled  the  "  Public  Ledger,"  which  made 
its  first   appearance   on   the    i2th   of  January,    1760.     His 
most  valuable  and  characteristic  contributions  to  this  paper 
were  his  "  Chinese  Letters,"  subsequently  modified  into  the  20 
"  Citizen  of  the  World."     These  lucubrations  attracted  gen- 
eral attention;  they  were  reprinted  in  the  various  periodical 
publications  of  the  day,  and  met  with  great  applause.     The 
name  of  the  author,  however,  was  as  yet  but  little  known. 

Being  now  easier  in  circumstances,  and  in  the  receipt  of  25 
frequent  sums  from  the  booksellers,  Goldsmith,  about  the 
middle  of  1760,  emerged  from  his  dismal  abode  in  Green 
Arbor   Court,   and    took  respectable    apartments  in   Wine- 
Office  Court,  Fleet  Street. 

Still  he  continued  to  look  back  with  considerate  benevo-  30 
lence  to  the  poor  hostess,  whose  necessities  he  had  relieved 
by  pawning  his  gala  coat,  for  we  are  told  that  "  he  often 
supplied  her  with  food  from  his  own  table,  and  visited  her 
frequently  with  the  sole  purpose  to  be  kind  to  her." 


.110  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

He  now  became  a  member  of  a  debating  club,  called  the 
Robin  Hood,  which  used  to  meet  near  Temple  Bar,  and  in 
which  Burke,  while  yet  a  Temple  student,  had  first  tried  his 
powers.  Goldsmith  spoke  here  occasionally,  and  is  recorded 
5  in  the  Robin  Hood  archives  as  "  a  candid  disputant,  with  a 
clear  head  and  an  honest  heart,  though  coming  but  seldom 
to  the  society."  His  relish  was  for  clubs  of  a  more  social, 
jovial  nature,  and  he  was  never  fond  of  argument.  An 
amusing  anecdote  is  told  of  his  first  introduction  to  the  club, 

10  by  Samuel  Derrick,  an  Irish  acquaintance  of  some  humor. 
On  entering,  Goldsmith  was  struck  with  the  self-important 
appearance  of  the  chairman  ensconced  in  a  large  gilt  chair. 
"This,"  said  he,  "must  be  the  Lord  Chancellor  at  least." 
"  No,  no,"  replied  Derrick,  "  he  's  only  master  of  the  rolls" 

15  — The  chairman  was  a  baker. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  What  are  some  of  the  elements  that  make  Goldsmith's  "  peculiar 
charm   of   style "  ?      Does    Irving   show  any  charm    of   style   in    this 
biography  ? 

2.  What  made  it  possible  for  Goldsmith  to  move  to  Fleet  Street  ? 

3.  Is  the  pun  at  the  end  of  the  chapter  a  good  one?     [Compare 
third  question,  Chapter  XLIV.] 

4.  By  what  means  was  Goldsmith  introduced  to  the  Robin  Hood 
debating  club  ? 

5.  What   should  be  the  aim  of   a  debating  club  ?     What  can  be 
accomplished  by  such  an  organization  ?     Draw  up  constitution  and  by- 
laws for  what  you  would  consider  an  ideal  debating  club. 


CHAPTER  XII 

New  Lodgings —  Visits  of  Ceremony  —  Hangers-on —  Pilkington  and  the  White 
Mouse —  Introduction  to  Dr.  Johnson  —  Davies  and  his  Bookshop —  Pretty 
Mrs.  Davies —  Foote  and  his  Projects  —  Criticism  of  the  Cudgel. 

In  his  new  lodgings  in  Wine-Office  Court,  Goldsmith 
began  to  receive  visits  of  ceremony,  and  to  entertain  his 
literary  friends.  Among  the  latter  he  now  numbered  sev- 
eral names  of  note,  such  as  Guthrie,  Murphy,  Christopher 
Smart,  and  Bickerstaff.  He  had  also  a  numerous  class  of  5 
hangers-on,  the  small  fry  of  literature;  who,  knowing  his 
almost  utter  incapacity  to  refuse  a  pecuniary  request,  were 
apt,  now  that  he  was  considered  flush,  to  levy  continual 
taxes  upon  his  purse. 

Among  others,  one  Pilkington,  an  old  college  acquaint-  10 
ance,  but  now  a  shifting  adventurer,  duped  him  in  the  most 
ludicrous  manner.     He  called  on   him  with  a  face  full  of 
perplexity.     A  lady  of  the  first  rank  having  an  extraordinary 
fancy  for  curious  animals,  for  which  she  was  willing  to  give 
enormous  sums,  he  had  procured  a  couple  of  white  mice  to  15 
be  forwarded  to  her  from  India.      They  were  actually  on 
board  of  a  ship  in  the  river.     Her  grace  had  been  apprised 
of  their  arrival,  and  was  all  impatience  to  see  them.     Unfor- 
tunately, he  had  no  cage  to  put  them  in,  nor  clothes  to 
appear  in  before  a  lady  of  her  rank.     Two  guineas  would  20 
be  sufficient  for  his  purpose,  but  where  were  two  guineas  to 
be  procured  ! 

The  simple  heart  of  Goldsmith  was  touched ;  but,  alas ! 
he  had  but  half  a  guinea  in  his  pocket.     It  was  unfortu- 
nate, but,  after  a  pause,  his  friend  suggested,  with  some  25 
hesitation,  "  that  money  might  be  raised  upon  his  watch :  it 


.112  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

would  but  be  the  loan  of  a  few  hours."  So  said,  so  done ; 
the  watch  was  delivered  to  the  worthy  Mr.  Pilkington  to  be 
pledged  at  a  neighboring  pawnbroker's,  but  nothing  farther 
was  ever  seen  of  him,  the  watch,  or  the  white  mice.  The 

5  next  that  Goldsmith  heard  of  the  poor  shifting  scapegrace, 
he  was  on  his  death-bed,  starving  with  want,  upon  which, 
forgetting  or  forgiving  the  trick  he  had  played  upon  him,  he 
sent  him  a  guinea.  Indeed  he  used  often  to  relate  with 
great  humor  the  foregoing  anecdote  .of  his  credulity,  and 

10  was  ultimately  in  some  degree  indemnified  by  its  suggest- 
ing to  him  the  amusing  little  story  of  Prince  Bonbennin  and 
the  White  Mouse  in  the  "  Citizen  of  the  World." 

In  this  year  Goldsmith  became  personally  acquainted  with 
Dr.  Johnson,  toward  whom  he  was  drawn  by  strong  sympa- 

15  thies,  though  their  natures  were  widely  different.  Both  had 
struggled  from  early  life  with  poverty,  but  had  struggled 
in  different  ways.  Goldsmith,  buoyant,  heedless,  sanguine, 
tolerant  of  evils,  and  easily  pleased,  had  shifted  along  by 
any  temporary  expedient ;  cast  down  at  every  turn,  but  rising 

20  again  with  indomitable  good-humor,  and  still  carried  forward 
by  his  talent  at  hoping.  Johnson,  melancholy,  and  hypo- 
chondriacal,  and  prone  to  apprehend  the  worst,  yet  sternly 
resolute  to  battle  with  and  conquer  it,  had  made  his  way 
doggedly  and  gloomily,  but  with  a  noble  principle  of  self- 

25  reliance  and  a  disregard  of  foreign  aid.  Both  had  been 
irregular  at  college  :  Goldsmith,  as  we  have  shown,  from 
the  levity  of  his  nature  and  his  social  and  convivial  habits ; 
Johnson,  from  his  acerbity  and  gloom.  When,  in  after-life, 
the  latter  heard  himself  spoken  of  as  gay  and  frolicsome  at 

30  college,  because  he  had  joined  in  some  riotous  excesses 
there,  "  Ah,  sir  !  "  replied  he,  "  I  was  mad  and  violent.  It 
was  bitterness  which  they  mistook  for  frolic.  I  was  miser- 
ably poor,  and  I  thought  to  fight  my  way  by  my  literature  and 
my  wit.  So  I  disregarded  all  power  and  all  authority." 


DR.  JOHNSON  113 

Goldsmith's  poverty  was  never  accompanied  by  bitterness  ; 
but  neither  was  it  accompanied  by  the  guardian  pride  which 
kept  Johnson  from  falling  into  the  degrading  shifts  of  pov- 
erty. Goldsmith  had  an  unfortunate  facility  at  borrowing, 
and  helping  himself-  along  by  the  contributions  of  his  friends  ;  5 
no  doubt  trusting  in  his  hopeful  way,  of  one  day  making 
retribution.  Johnson  never  hoped,  and  therefore  never  bor- 
rowed. In  his  sternest  trials  he  proudly  bore  the  ills  he 
could  not  master.  In  his  youth,  when  some  unknown  friend, 
seeing  his  shoes  completely  worn  out,  left  a  new  pair  at  his  10 
chamber-door,  he  disdained  to  accept  the  boon,  and  threw 
them  away. 

Though  like  Goldsmith  an  immethodical  student,  he  had 
imbibed  deeper  draughts  of  knowledge,  and  made  himself  a 
riper  scholar.  While  Goldsmith's  happy  constitution  and  15 
genial  humors  carried  him  abroad  into  sunshine  and  enjoy- 
ment, Johnson's  physical  infirmities  and  mental  gloom  drove 
him  upon  himself;  to  the  resources  of  reading  and  medita- 
tion ;  threw  a  deeper  though  darker  enthusiasm  into  his  mind, 
and  stored  a  retentive  memory  with  all  kinds  of  knowledge.  20 

After  several  years  of  youth  passed  in  the  country  as  usher, 
teacher,  and  an  occasional  writer  for  the  press,  Johnson,  when 
twenty-eight  years  of  age,  came  up  to  London  with  a  half- 
written  tragedy  in  his  pocket ;  and  David  Garrick,  late  his 
pupil,  and  several  years  his  junior,  as  a  companion,  both  25 
poor  and  penniless,  —  both,  like  Goldsmith,  seeking  their 
fortune  in  the  metropolis.  "  We  rode  and  tied,"  said  Garrick 
sportively  in  after-years  of  prosperity,  when  he  spoke  of  their 
humble  wayfaring.  "  I  came  to  London,"  said  Johnson,  "  with 
twopence  halfpenny  in  my  pocket."  —  "  Eh,  what 's  that  you  30 
say  ? "  cried  Garrick,  "  with  twopence  halfpenny  in  your 
pocket?"  "Why,  yes:  I  came  with  twopence  halfpenny 
in  my  pocket,  and  thou,  Davy,  with  but  three  halfpence  in 
thine."  Nor  was  there  much  exaggeration  in  the  picture ; 


JI4  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

for  so  poor  were  they  in  purse  and  credit,  that  after  their 
arrival  they  had,  with  difficulty,  raised  five  pounds,  by  giving 
their  joint  note  to  a  bookseller  in  the  Strand. 

Many,  many  years  had  Johnson  gone  on  obscurely  in 
5  London,  "fighting  his  way  by  his  literature  and  his  wit"; 
enduring  all  the  hardships  and  miseries  of  a  Grub-Street 
writer :  so  destitute  at  one  time,  that  he  and  Savage  the 
poet  had  walked  all  night  about  St.  James's  Square,  both  too 
poor  to  pay  for  a  night's  lodging,  yet  both  full  of  poetry  and 

10  patriotism,  and  determined  to  stand  by  their  country;  so 
shabby  in  dress  at  another  time,  that,  when  he  dined  at 
Cave's,  his  bookseller,  when  there  was  prosperous  company, 
he  could  not  make  his  appearance  at  table,  but  had  his 
dinner  handed  to  him  behind  a  screen. 

15  Yet  through  all  the  long  and  dreary  struggle,  often  diseased 
in  mind  as  well  as  in  body,  he  had  been  resolutely  self- 
dependent,  and  proudly  self-respectful ;  he  had  fulfilled  his 
college  vow,  he  had  "  fought  his  way  by  his  literature  and 
wit."  His  "Rambler"  and  "Idler"  had  made  him  the 

20  great  moralist  of  the  age,  and  his  "  Dictionary  and  History 
of  the  English  Language,"  that  stupendous  monument  of 
individual  labor,  had  excited  the  admiration  of  the  learned 
world.  He  was  now  at  the  head  of  intellectual  society;  and 
had  become  as  distinguished  by  his  conversational  as  his 

25  literary  powers.  He  had  become  as  much  an  autocrat  in 
his  sphere  as  his  fellow-wayfarer  and  adventurer  Garrick 
had  become  of  the  stage,  and  had  been  humorously  dubbed 
by  Smollett,  "  The  Great  Cham  of  Literature." 

Such  was  Dr.  Johnson,  when  on  the  3ist  of  May,  1761, 

30  he  was  to  make  his  appearance  as  a  guest  at  a  literary  supper 
given  by  Goldsmith  to  a  numerous  party  at  his  new  lodgings 
in  Wine-Office  Court.  It  was  the  opening  of  their  acquaint- 
ance. Johnson  had  felt  and  acknowledged  the  merit  of  Gold- 
smith as  an  author,  and  been  pleased  by  the  honorable 


DR.  JOHNSON  115 

mention  made  of  himself  in  the  "  Bee "  and  the  "  Chinese 
Letters."  Dr.  Percy  called  upon  Johnson  to  take  him  to  Gold- 
smith's lodgings ;  he  found  Johnson  arrayed  with  unusual 
care  in  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  a  new  hat,  and  a  well-powdered 
wig;  and  could  not  but  notice  his  uncommon  spruceness.  5 
"Why,  sir,"  replied  Johnson,  "I  hear  that  Goldsmith,  who 
is  a  very  great  sloven,  justifies  his  disregard  of  cleanliness 
and  decency  by  quoting  my  practice,  and  I  am  desirous  this 
night  to  show  him  a  better  example." 

The  acquaintance  thus  commenced  ripened  into  intimacy  10 
in  the  course  of  frequent  meetings  at  the  shop  of  Davies, 
the  bookseller,  in  Russell  Street,  Covent  Garden.  As  this 
was  one  of  the  great  literary  gossiping-places  of  the  day, 
especially  to  the  circle  over  which  Johnson  presided,  it  is 
worthy  of  some  specification.  Mr.  Thomas  Davies,  noted  15 
in  after-times  as  the  biographer  of  Garrick,  had  originally 
been  on  the  stage,  and  though  a  small  man,  had  enacted 
tyrannical  tragedy  with  a  pomp  and  magniloquence  beyond 
his  size,  if  we  may  trust  the  description  given  of  him  by 
Churchill  in  the  "  Rosciad  "  :  —  20 

"Statesman  all  over  —  in  plots  famous  grown, 
He  mouths  a  sentence  as  furs  mouth  a  bone" 

This  unlucky  sentence  is  said  to  have  crippled  him  in  the 
midst  of  his  tragic  career,  and  ultimately  to  have  driven  him 
from  the  stage.     He  carried  into  the  bookselling  craft  some-  25 
what  of  the  grandiose  manner  of  the  stage,  and  was  prone 
to  be  mouthy  and  magniloquent. 

Churchill  had  intimated,  that  while  on  the  stage  he  was 
more  noted  for  his  pretty  wife  than  his  good  acting:  — 

"  With  him  came  mighty  Davies ;  on  my  life,  30 

That  fellow  has  a  very  pretty  wife." 

"Pretty  Mrs.  Davies"  continued  to  be  the  loadstar  of  his 
fortunes.      Her  tea-table  became  almost  as  much  a  literary 


j  16  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

lounge  as  her  husband's  shop.  She  found  favor  in  the  eyes 
of  the  Ursa  Major  of  literature  by  her  winning  ways,  as  she 
poured  out  for  him  cups  without  stint  of  his  favorite  beverage. 
Indeed  it  is  suggested  that  she  was  one  leading  cause  of  his 
5  habitual  resort  to  this  literary  haunt.  Others  were  drawn 
thither  for  the  sake  of  Johnson's  conversation,  and  thus  it 
became  a  resort  of  many  of  the  notorieties  of  the  day.  Here 
might  occasionally  be  seen  Bennet  Langton,  George  Steevens, 
Dr.  Percy,  celebrated  for  his  ancient  ballads,  and  sometimes 

10  Warburton  in  prelatic  state.  Garrick  resorted  to  It  for  a  time, 
but  soon  grew  shy  and  suspicious,  declaring  that  most  of  the 
authors  who  frequented  Mr.  Davies's  shop  went  merely  to 
abuse  him. 

Foote,  the  Aristophanes  of  the  day,  was  a  frequent  visitor; 

15  his  broad  face  beaming  with  fun  and  waggery,  and  his  satir- 
ical eye  ever  on  the  lookout  for  characters  and  incidents  for 
his  farces.  He  was  struck  with  the  odd  habits  and  appear- 
ance of  Johnson  and  Goldsmith,  now  so  often  brought  together 
in  Davies's  shop.  He  was  about  to  put  on  the  stage  a  farce 

20  called  "The  Orators,"  intended  as  a  hit  at  the  Robin  Hood 
debating-club,  and  resolved  to  show  up  the  two  doctors  in  it 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  town. 

"  What  is  the  common  price  of  an  oak  stick,  sir  ?  "  said 
Johnson  to   Davies.      "  Sixpence,"   was  the  reply.      "  Why 

25  then,  sir,  give  me  leave  to  send  your  servant  to  purchase  a 
shilling  one.  I  '11  have  a  double  quantity,  for  I  am  told 
Foote  means  to  take  me  off  as  he  calls  it,  and  I  am  deter- 
mined the  fellow  shall  not  do  it  with  impunity." 

Foote  had  no  disposition  to  undergo  the  criticism  of  the 

30  cudgel  wielded  by  such  potent  hands,  so  the  farce  of  "  The 
Orators"  appeared  without  the  caricatures  of  the  lexicog- 
rapher and  the  essayist. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS  117 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Comparison  of  the  struggles  of  Goldsmith  and  Johnson  for  literary 
recognition. 

2.  Who  were  some  of  Goldsmith's  intimates  in  these  years?     How- 
many  of  them  might  reasonably  be  called  famous  ?     Does  the  company 
Goldsmith  kept  indicate  the  kind  of  man  he  was  ? 

3.  A  study  of  the  allusions   to   Goldsmith   in   Boswell's   "  Life  of 
Johnson."     [Consult  index  of  the  Boswell.] 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Oriental  Projects — Literary  Jobs  —  The  Cherokee  Chiefs — Merry  Islington 
and  the  White  Conduit  House  —  Letters  on  the  History  of  England  — 
James  Boswell  —  Dinner  of  Da  vies  —  Anecdotes  of  Johnson  and  Goldsmith. 

Notwithstanding  his  growing  success,  Goldsmith  continued 
to  consider  literature  a  mere  makeshift,  and  his  vagrant  imagi- 
nation teemed  with  schemes  and  plans  of  a  grand  but  indefinite 
nature.  One  was  for  visiting  the  East  and  exploring  the  inte- 
5  rior  of  Asia.  He  had,  as  has  been  before  observed,  a  vague 
notion  that  valuable  discoveries  were  to  be  made  there,  and 
many  useful  inventions  in  the  arts  brought  back  to  the  stock  of 
European  knowledge.  "  Thus,  in  Siberian  Tartary,"  observes 
he,  in  one  of  his  writings,  "  the  natives  extract  a  strong  spirit 

10  from  milk,  which  is  a  secret  probably  unknown  to  the  chem- 
ists of  Europe.  In  the  most  savage  parts  of  India  they  are 
possessed  of  the  secret  of  dyeing  vegetable  substances  scar- 
let, and  that  of  refining  lead  into  a  metal  which,  for  hardness 
and  color,  is  little  inferior  to  silver." 

15  Goldsmith  adds  a  description  of  the  kind  of  person  suited 
to  such  an  enterprise,  in  which  he  evidently  had  himself 
in  view. 

"  He  should  be  a  man  of  philosophical  turn,  one  apt  to 
deduce  consequences  of  general  utility  from  particular  occur- 

20  rences  ;  neither  swoln  with  pride,  nor  hardened  by  prejudice; 
neither  wedded  to  one  particular  system,  nor  instructed  only 
in  one  particular  science ;  neither  wholly  a  botanist,  nor 
quite  an  antiquarian  ;  his  mind  should  be  tinctured  with  mis- 
cellaneous knowledge,  and  his  manners  humanized  by  an 

25  intercourse  with  men.  He  should  be  in  some  measure  an 
enthusiast  to  the  design ;  fond  of  travelling,  from  a  rapid 

118 


LITERARY  JOBS  119 

imagination  and  an  innate  love  of  change ;  furnished  with 
a  body  capable  of  sustaining  every  fatigue,  and  a  heart  not 
easily  terrified  at  danger." 

In  1761,  when  Lord  Bute  became  prime  minister  on  the 
accession  of  George  the  Third,  Goldsmith  drew  up  a  memo-  5 
rial  on  the  subject,  suggesting  the  advantages  to  be  derived 
from  a  mission  to  those  countries  solely  for  useful  and  sci- 
entific purposes;  and,  the  better  to  insure  success,  he  pre- 
ceded his  application  to  the  government  by  an  ingenious 
essay  to  the  same  effect  in  the  "  Public  Ledger."  10 

His  memorial  and  his  essay  were  fruitless,  his  project  most 
probably  being  deemed  the  dream  of  a  visionary.  Still  it 
continued  to  haunt  his  mind,  and  he  would  often  talk  of 
making  an  expedition  to  Aleppo  some  time  or  other,  when 
his  means  were  greater,  to  inquire  into  the  arts  peculiar  15 
to  the  East,  and  to  bring  home  such  as  might  be  valuable. 
Johnson,  who  knew  how  little  poor  Goldsmith  was  fitted  by 
scientific  lore  for  this  favorite  scheme  of  his  fancy,  scoffed 
at  the  project  when  it  was  mentioned  to  him.  "Of  all 
men,"  said  he,  "  Goldsmith  is  the  most  unfit  to  go  out  upon  20 
such  an  inquiry,  for  he  is  utterly  ignorant  of  such  arts  as 
we  already  possess,  and,  consequently,  could  not  know  what 
would  be  accessions  to  our  present  stock  of  mechanical 
knowledge.  Sir,  he  would  bring  home  a  grinding-barrow, 
which  you  see  in  every  street  in  London,  and  think  that  25 
he  had  furnished  a  wonderful  improvement." 

His  connection  with  Newbery  the  bookseller  now  led  him 
into  a  variety  of  temporary  jobs,  such  as  a  pamphlet  on  the 
Cock-Lane  Ghost,  a  Life  of  Beau  Nash,  the  famous  Master 
of  Ceremonies  at  Bath,  &c. :  one  of  the  best  things  for  his  30 
fame,  however,  was  the  remodelling  and  republication  of  his 
Chinese  Letters  under  the  title  of  "The  Citizen  of  the  World," 
a  work  which  has  long  since  taken  its  merited  stand  among 
the  classics  of  the  English  language.  "  Few  works,"  it  has 


120  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

been  observed  by  one  of  his  biographers,  "exhibit  a  nicer 
perception,  or  more  delicate  delineation  of  life  and  manners. 
Wit,  humor,  and  sentiment  pervade  every  page ;  the  vices 
and  follies  of  the  day  are  touched  with  the  most  playful 

5  and  diverting  satire  ;  and  English  characteristics,  in  endless 
variety,  are  hit  off  with  the  pencil  of  a  master." 

In  seeking  materials  for  his  varied  views  of  life,  he  often 
mingled  in  strange  scenes  and  got  involved  in  whimsical  situ- 
ations. In  the  summer  of  1762  he  was  one  of  the  thousands 

10  who  went  to  see  the  Cherokee  chiefs,  whom  he  mentions  in 
one  of  his  writings.  The  Indians  made  their  appearance 
in  grand  costume,  hideously  painted  and  besmeared.  In  the 
course  of  the  visit  Goldsmith  made  one  of  the  chiefs  a  pres- 
ent, who,  in  the  ecstasy  of  his  gratitude,  gave  him  an  embrace 

15  that  left  his  face  well  bedaubed  with  oil  and  red  ochre. 

Towards  the  close  of  1762  he  removed  to  "merry  Isling- 
ton," then  a  country  village,  though  now  swallowed  up  in 
omnivorous  London.  He  went  there  for  the  -benefit  of 
country  air,  his  health  being  injured  by  literary  applica- 

20  tion  and  confinement,  and  to  be  near  his  chief  employer, 
Mr.  Newbery,  who  resided  in  the  Canonbury  House.  In  this 
neighborhood  he  used  to  take  his  solitary  rambles,  some- 
times extending  his  walks  to  the  gardens  of  the  "\Yhite 
Conduit  House,"  so  famous  among  the  essayists  of  the  last 

25  century.  While  strolling  one  day  in  these  gardens,  he  met 
three  females  of  the  family  of  a  respectable  tradesman  to 
whom  he  was  under  some  obligation.  With  his  prompt  dis- 
position to  oblige,  he  conducted  them  about  the  garden, 
treated  them  to  tea,  and  ran  up  a  bill  in  the  most  open- 

30  handed  manner  imaginable ;  it  was  only  when  he  came  to 
pay  that  he  found  himself  in  one  of  his  old  dilemmas  —  he 
had  not  the  wherewithal  in  his  pocket.  A  scene  of  per- 
plexity now  took  place  between  him  and  the  waiter,  in  the 
midst  of  which  came  up  some  of  his  acquaintances,  in  whose 


HIS   "HISTORY   OF   ENGLAND"  121 

eyes  he  wished  to  stand  particularly  well.  This  completed 
his  mortification.  There  was  no  concealing  the  awkward- 
ness of  his  position.  The  sneers  of  the  waiter  revealed  it. 
His  acquaintances  amused  themselves  for  some  time  at  his 
expense,  professing  their  inability  to  relieve  him.  When,  5 
however,  they  had  enjoyed  their  banter,  the  waiter  was  paid, 
and  poor  Goldsmith  enabled  to  convoy  off  the  ladies  with 
flying  colors. 

Among  the  various  productions   thrown  off  by  him  for 
the  booksellers  during  this  growing  period  of  his  reputation,  10 
was  a  small  work  in  two  volumes,  entitled  "The  History  of 
England,  in  a  Series  of  Letters  from  a  Nobleman  to  his  Son." 
It  was    digested    from    Hume,  Rapin,  Carte,  and  Kennet. 
These  authors  he  would  read  in  the  morning;  make  a  few 
notes;    ramble   with  a  friend  into   the    country  about   the  15 
skirts  of  "merry  Islington";  return  to  a  temperate  dinner 
and  cheerful  evening;  and,  before  going  to  bed,  write  off 
what  had- arranged  itself  in  his  head  from  the  studies  of  the 
morning.     In  this  way  he  took  a  more  general  view  of  the 
subject,  and  wrote  in  a  more  free  and  fluent  style  than  if  20 
he  had  been  mousing  at  the  time  among  authorities.     The 
work,  like  many  others  written  by  him  in  the  earlier  part  of 
his  literary  career,  was  anonymous.     Some  attributed  it  to 
Lord  Chesterfield,  others    to    Lord  Orrery,  and   others  to 
Lord  Lyttelton.     The  latter  seemed  pleased  to  be  the  puta-  25 
live  father,  and  never  disowned  the  bantling  thus  laid  at 
his  door ;  and  well  might  he  have  been  proud  to  be  con- 
sidered capable  of  producing  what  has  been  well-pronounced 
"  the  most  finished  and  elegant  summary  of  English  history 
in   the   same    compass   that    has   been    or   is    likely  to  be  30 
written." 

The  reputation  of  Goldsmith,  it  will  be  perceived,  grew 
slowly;  he  was  known  and  estimated  by  a  few;  but  he  had 
not  those  brilliant  though  fallacious  qualities  which  flash 


122  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

upon  the  public,  and  excite  loud  but  transient  applause. 
His  works  were  more  read  than  cited;  and  the  charm  of 
style,  for  which  he  was  especially  noted,  was  more  apt  to 
be  felt  than  talked  about.  He  used  often  to  repine,  in  a 

5  half  humorous,  half  querulous  manner,  at  his  tardiness  in 
gaining  the  laurels  which  he  felt  to  be  his  due.  "The 
public,"  he  would  exclaim,  "will  never  do  me  justice;  when- 
ever I  write  anything,  they  make  a  point  to  know  nothing 
about  it." 

10  About  the  beginning  of  1763  he  became  acquainted  with 
Boswell,  whose  literary  gossipings  were  destined  to  have  a 
deleterious  effect  upon  his  reputation.  Boswell  was  at  that 
time  a  young  man,  light,  buoyant,  pushing,  and  presump- 
tuous. He  had  a  morbid  passion  for  mingling  in  the  society 

15  of  men  noted  for  wit  and  learning,  and  had  just  arrived 
from  Scotland,  bent  upon  making  his  way  into  the  literary 
circles  of  the  metropolis.  An  intimacy  with  Dr.  Johnson, 
the  great  literary  luminary  of  the  day,  was  the  crowning 
object  of  his  aspiring  and  somewhat  ludicrous  ambition. 

20  He  expected  to  meet  him  at  a  dinner  to  which  he  was 
invited  at  Davies  the  bookseller's  but  was  disappointed. 
Goldsmith  was  present,  but  he  was  not  as  yet  sufficiently 
renowned  to  excite  the  reverence  of  Boswell.  "  At  this 
time,"  says  he  in  his  notes,  "  I  think  he  had  published 

25  nothing  with  his  name,  though  it  was  pretty  generally  under- 
stood that  one  Dr.  Goldsmith  was  the  author  of  'An  Inquiry 
into  the  Present  State  of  Polite  Learning  in  Europe,'  and  of 
'The  Citizen  of  the  World,'  a  series  of  letters  supposed  to 
be  written  from  London,  by  a  Chinese." 

30  A  conversation  took  place  at  table  between  Goldsmith 
and  Mr.  Robert  Dodsley,  compiler  of  the  well-known  col- 
lection of  modern  poetry,  as  to  the  merits  of  the  current 
poetry  of  the  day.  Goldsmith  declared  there  was  none  of 
superior  merit.  Dodsley  cited  his  own  collection  in  proof 


JAMES   BOSWELL  123 

of  the  contrary.  "  It  is  true,"  said  he,  "  we  can  boast  of  no 
palaces  nowadays,  like  Dryden's  '  Ode  to  St.  Cecilia's  Day,' 
but  we  have  villages  composed  of  very  pretty  houses." 
Goldsmith,  however,  maintained  that  there  was  nothing 
above  mediocrity,  an  opinion  in  which  Johnson,  to  whom  it  5 
was  repeated,  concurred,  and  with  reason,  for  the  era  was 
one  of  the  dead  levels  of  British  poetry. 

Boswell  has  made  no  note  of  this  conversation;  he  was 
an  Unitarian  in  his  literary  devotion,  and  disposed  to  worship 
none  but  Johnson.  Little  Davies  endeavored  to  console  him  10 
for  his  disappointment,  and  to  stay  the  stomach  of  his  curi- 
osity, by  giving  him  imitations  of  the  great  lexicographer; 
mouthing  his  words,  rolling  his  head,  and  assuming  as  pon- 
derous a  manner  as  his  petty  person  would  permit.  Bos- 
well  was  shortly  afterwards  made  happy  by  an  introduction  15 
to  Johnson,  of  whom  he  became  the  obsequious  satellite. 
From  him  he  likewise  imbibed  a  more  favorable  opinion  of 
Goldsmith's  merits,  though  he  was  fain  to  consider  them 
derived  in  a  great  measure  from  his  Magnus  Apollo.  "  He 
had  sagacity  enough,"  says  he,  "  to  cultivate  assiduously  the  20 
acquaintance  of  Johnson,  and  his  faculties  were  gradually 
enlarged  by  the  contemplation  of  such  a  model.  To  me 
and  many  others  it  appeared  that  he  studiously  copied  the 
manner  of  Johnson,  though,  indeed,  upon  a  smaller  scale." 
So  on  another  occasion  he  calls  him  "one  of  the  brightest  25 
ornaments  of  the  Johnsonian  school."  "  His  respectful 
attachment  to  Johnson,"  adds  he,  "was  then  at  its  height; 
for  his  own  literary  reputation  had  not  yet  distinguished 
him  so  much  as  to  excite  a  vain  desire  of  competition  with 
his  great  master."  30 

What  beautiful  instances  does  the  garrulous  Boswell  give 
of  the  goodness  of  heart  of  Johnson,  and  the  passing  homage 
to  it  by  Goldsmith.  They  were  speaking  of  a  Mr.  Levett, 
long  an  inmate  of  Johnson's  house  and  a  dependent  on  his 


124  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

bounty;  but  who,  Boswell  thought,  must  be  an  irksome 
charge  upon  him.  "He  is  poor  and  honest,"  said  Gold- 
smith, "which  is  recommendation  enough  to  Johnson.'' 

Boswell  mentioned  another  person  of  a  very  bad  character, 
5  and  wondered  at  Johnson's  kindness  to  him.  "  He  is  now 
become  miserable,"  said  Goldsmith,  "  and  that  insures  the 
protection  of  Johnson."  Encomiums  like  these  speak  almost 
as  much  for  the  heart  of  him  who  praises  as  of  him  who 
is  praised. 

10  Subsequently,  when  Boswell  had  become  more  intense  in 
his  literary  idolatry,  he  affected  to  undervalue  Goldsmith, 
and  a  lurking  hostility  to  him  is  discernible  throughout 
his  writings,  which  some  have  attributed  to  a  silly  spirit 
of  jealousy  of  the  superior  esteem  evinced  for  the  poet  by 

15  Dr.  Johnson.  We  have  a  gleam  of  this  in  his  account  of 
the  first  evening  he  spent  in  company  with  those  two  emi- 
nent authors  at  their  famous  resort,  the  Mitre  Tavern,  in 
Fleet  Street.  This  took  place  on  the  istof  July,  1763.  The 
trio  supped  together,  and  passed  some  time  in  literary  con- 

20  versation.  On  quitting  the  tavern,  Johnson,  who  had  now 
been  sociably  acquainted  with  Goldsmith  for  two  years, 
and  knew  his  merits,  took  him  with  him  to  drink  tea  with 
his  blind  pensioner,  Miss  Williams,  —  a  high  privilege  among 
his  intimates  and  admirers.  To  Boswell,  a  recent  acquaint- 

25  ance,  whose  intrusive  sycophancy  had  not  yet  made  its  way 
into  his  confidential  intimacy,  he  gave  no  invitation.  Bos- 
well felt  it  with  all  the  jealousy  of  a  little  mind.  "  Dr. 
Goldsmith,"  says  he,  in  his  memoirs,  "being  a  privileged 
man  went  with  him,  strutting  away,  and  calling  to  me  with 

30  an  air  of  superiority,  like  that  of  an  esoteric  over  an  exo- 
teric disciple  of  a  sage  of  antiquity,  '  I  go  to  Miss  Williams.' 
I  confess  I  then  envied  him  this  mighty  privilege,  of  which 
he  seemed  to  be  so  proud ;  but  it  was  not  long  before  I 
obtained  the  same  mark  of  distinction." 


JEALOUSY    OF   BOSWELL  125 

Obtained !  but  how  ?  not  like  Goldsmith,  by  the  force 
of  unpretending  but  congenial  merit,  but  by  a  course  of 
the  most  pushing,  contriving,  and  spaniel-like  subserviency. 
Really,  the  ambition  of  the  man  to  illustrate  his  mental 
insignificance,  by  continually  placing  himself  in  juxtaposi-  5 
tion  with  the  great  lexicographer,  has  something  in  it  per- 
fectly ludicrous.  Never,  since  the  days  of  Don  Quixote  and 
Sancho  Panza,  has  there  been  presented  to  the  world  a  more 
whimsically  contrasted  pair  of  associates  than  Johnson  and 
Boswell.  10 

"Who  is  this  Scotch  cur  at  Johnson's  heels?"  asked 
some  one  when  Boswell  had  worked  his  way  into  inces- 
sant companionship.  "  He  is  not  a  cur,"  replied  Goldsmith, 
"  you  are  too  severe ;  he  is  only  a  bur.  Tom  Davies  flung 
him  at  Johnson  in  sport,  and  he  has  the  faculty  of  sticking."  15 


TOPICS* AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Show  how  Goldsmith's  method  of  writing  his  "History  of  Eng- 
land "  should  offer  hints  to  you  in  the  preparation  of  school  compo- 
sitions. 

2.  What  well-known  short  poem  of  Goldsmith's  contains  a  refer- 
ence to  Islington  ?    [See  Chapter  XVII  of  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield."] 

3.  Who  was  Boswell  ?      Why  should  not  he  and  Goldsmith  have 
found  each  other's  company  agreeable  ? 

4.  Why  might  Johnson  be  called  the  Magnus  Apollo  of  Boswell? 
By   what   other   terms    is    Johnson    referred   to   in    Irving's  "  Life  of 
Goldsmith  "  ? 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Hogarth  a  Visitor  at  Islington;  His  Character  —  Street  Studies  —  Sympathies 
between  Authors  and  Painters  —  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds;  His  Character; 
His  Dinners — The  Literary  Club;  Its  Members — Johnson's  Revels  with 
Lankey  and  Beau  —  Goldsmith  at  the  Club. 

Among  the  intimates  who  used  to  visit  the  poet  occasion- 
ally in  his  retreat  at  Islington,  was  Hogarth  the  painter. 
Goldsmith  had  spoken  well  of  him  in  his  essays  in  the  "Pub- 
lic Ledger,"  and  this  formed  the  first  link  in  their  friend- 
5  ship.  He  was  at  this  time  upwards  of  sixty  years  of  age, 
and  is  described  as  a  stout,  active,  bustling  little  man,  in  a 
sky-blue  coat,  satirical  and  dogmatic,  yet  full  of  real  benev- 
olence and  the  love  of  human  nature.  He  was  the  moral- 
ist and  philosopher  of  the  pencil ;  like  Goldsmith  he  had 

10  sounded  the  depths  of  vice  and  misery,  without  being  pol- 
luted by  them  ;  and  though  his  picturings  had  not  the  per- 
vading amenity  of  those  of  the  essayist,  and  dwelt  more  on 
the  crimes  and  vices  than  the  follies  and  humors  of  man- 
kind, yet  they  were  all  calculated,  in  like  manner,  to  fill  the 

15  mind  with  instruction  and  precept,  and  to  make  the  heart 
better. 

Hogarth  does  not  appear  to  have  had  much  of  the  rural 
feeling  with  which  Goldsmith  was  so  amply  endowed,  and 
may  not  have  accompanied  him  in  his  strolls  about  hedges 

20  and  green  lanes;  but  he  was  a  fit  companion  with  whom  to 
explore  the  mazes  of  London,  in  which  he  was  continually 
on  the  lookout  for  character  and  incident.  One  of  Hogarth's 
admirers  speaks  of  having  come  upon  him  in  Castle  Street, 
engaged  in  one  of  his  street-studies,  watching  two  boys  who 

25  were  quarrelling;   patting  one  on   the   back  who  flinched, 

126 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS  127 

and  endeavoring  to  spirit  him  up  to  a  fresh  encounter. 
"  At  him  again  !  D —  him,  if  I  would  take  it  of  him  !  At 
him  again  !  " 

A  frail  memorial  of  this  intimacy  between  the  painter 
and  the  poet  exists  in  a  portrait  in  oil,  called  "  Goldsmith's  5 
Hostess."  It  is  supposed  to  have  been  painted  by  Hogarth 
in  the  course  of  his  visits  to  Islington,  and  given  by  him  to 
the  poet  as  a  means  of  paying  his  landlady.  There  are  no 
friendships  among  men  of  talents  more  likely  to  be  sincere 
than  those  between  painters  and  poets.  Possessed  of  the  10 
same  qualities  of  mind,  governed  by  the  same  principles  of 
taste  and  natural  laws  of  grace  and  beauty,  but  applying 
them  to  different  yet  mutually  illustrative  arts,  they  are  con- 
stantly in  sympathy,  and  never  in  collision  with  each  other. 

A  still  more  congenial  intimacy  of  the  kind  was  that  con-  15 
tracted  by  Goldsmith  with  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir  Joshua)  Rey- 
nolds.    The  latter  was  now  about  forty  years  of  age,  a  few 
years  older  than  the  poet,  whom  he  charmed  by  the  bland- 
ness  and  benignity  of  his  manners,  and  the  nobleness  and 
generosity  of  his  disposition,  as  much   as   he  did  by  the  20 
graces  of  his  pencil  and  the  magic  of  his  coloring.     They 
were   men   of   kindred   genius,   excelling  in   corresponding 
qualities  of  their  several  arts,  for  style  in  writing  is  what 
color   is    in    painting;    both    are    innate   endowments,  and 
equally  magical  in  their  effects.     Certain  graces  and  har-  25 
monies  of  both  may  be  acquired  by  diligent  study  and  imita- 
tion, but  only  in  a  limited  degree ;  whereas  by  their  natural 
possessors  they  are  exercised  spontaneously,  almost  uncon- 
sciously, and  with  ever-varying  fascination.     Reynolds  soon 
understood  and  appreciated  the  merits  of  Goldsmith,  and  a  30 
sincere  and  lasting  friendship  ensued  between  them. 

At  Reynolds's  house  Goldsmith  mingled  in  a  higher  range 
of  company  than  he  had  been  accustomed  to.  The  fame 
of  this  celebrated  artist,  and  his  amenity  of  manners,  were 


128  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

gathering  round  him  men  of  talents  of  all  kinds,  and  the 
increasing  affluence  of  his  circumstances  enabled  him  to 
give  full  indulgence  to  his  hospitable  disposition.  Poor 
Goldsmith  had  not  yet,  like  Dr.  Johnson,  acquired  reputa- 
5  tion  enough  to  atone  for  his  external  defects  and  his  want 
of  the  air  of  good  society.  Miss  Reynolds  used  to  inveigh 
against  his  personal  appearance,  which  gave  her  the  idea, 
she  said,  of  a  low  mechanic,  a  journeyman  tailor.  One 
evening  at  a  large  supper-party,  being  called  upon  to  give 

10  as  a  toast  the  ugliest  man  she  knew,  she  gave  Dr.  Gold- 
smith, upon  which  a  lady  who  sat  opposite,  and  whom  she 
had  never  met  before,  shook  hands  with  her  across  the 
table,  and  "hoped  to  become  better  acquainted." 

We  have  a  graphic  and  amusing  picture  of  Reynolds's  hos- 

15  pitable  but  motley  establishment,  in  an  account  given  by  a 
Mr.  Courtenay  to  Sir  James  Mackintosh  ;  though  it  speaks 
of  a  time  after  Reynolds  had  received  the  honor  of  knight- 
hood. "There  was  something  singular,"  said  he,  "in  the 
style  and  economy  of  Sir  Joshua's  table  that  contributed  to 

20  pleasantry  and  good-humor,  —  a  coarse,    inelegant  plenty,! 
without    any    regard    to    order   and   arrangement.     At   five 
o'clock  precisely,  dinner  was  served,  whether  all  the  invited 
guests  had  arrived  or  not.     Sir  Joshua  was  never  so  fash- 
ionably ill-bred  as  to  wait  an  hour  perhaps  for  two  or  three 

25  persons  of  rank  or  title,  and  put  the  rest  of  the  company 
out  of  humor  by  this  invidious  distinction.  His  invitations, 
however,  did  not  regulate  the  number  of  his  guests.  Many 
dropped  in  uninvited.  A  table  prepared  for  seven  or  eight 
was  often  compelled  to  contain  fifteen  or  sixteen.  There 

30  was  a  consequent  deficiency  of  knives,  forks,  plates,  and 
glasses.  The  attendance  was  in  the  same  style,  and  those 
who  were  knowing  in  the  ways  of  the  house  took  care  on 
sitting  down  to  call  instantly  for  beer,  bread,  or  wine,  that 
they  might  secure  a  supply  before  the  first  course  was  over. 


THE   LITERARY   CLUB  129 

He  was  once  prevailed  on  to  furnish  the  table  with  decant- 
ers and  glasses  at  dinner,  to  save  time  and  prevent  confu- 
sion. These  gradually  were  demolished  in  the  course  of 
service,  and  were  never  replaced.  These  trifling  embarrass- 
ments, however,  only  served  to  enhance  the  hilarity  and  5 
singular  pleasure  of  the  entertainment.  The  wine,  cookery, 
and  dishes  were  but  little  attended  to ;  nor  was  the  fish  or 
venison  ever  talked  of  or  recommended.  Amidst  this  con- 
vivial animated  bustle  among  his  guests,  our  host  sat  per- 
fectly composed;  always  attentive  to  what  was  said,  never  10 
minding  what  was  ate  or  drank,  but  left  every  one  at  per- 
fect liberty  to  scramble  for  himself." 

Out  of  the  casual  but  frequent  meeting  of  men  of  talent 
at  this  hospitable  board  rose  that  association  of  wits,  authors, 
scholars,  and  statesmen,  renowned  as  the  Literary  Club.  15 
Reynolds  was  the  first  to  propose  a  regular  association  of 
the  kind,  and  was  eagerly  seconded  by  Johnson,  who  pro- 
posed as  a  model  a  club  which  he  had  formed  many  years 
previously  in  Ivy  Lane,  but  which  was  now  extinct.  Like 
that  club  the  number  of  members  was  limited  to  nine.  20 
They  were  to  meet  and  sup  together  once  a  week,  on  Mon- 
day night,  at  the  Turk's  Head  on  Gerard  Street,  Soho,  and 
two  members  were  to  constitute  a  meeting.  It  took  a  regu- 
lar form  in  the  year  1764,  but  did  not  receive  its  literary 
appellation  until  several  years  afterwards.  25 

The  original  members  were  Reynolds,  Johnson,  Burke, 
Dr.  Nugent,  Bennet  Langton,  Topham  Beauclerc,  Chamier, 
Hawkins,  and  Goldsmith  ;  and  here  a  few  words  concerning 
some  of  the  members  may  be  acceptable.  Burke  was  at 
that  time  about  thirty-three  years  of  age ;  he  had  mingled  a  30 
little  in  politics  and  been  Under-Secretary  to  Hamilton  at 
Dublin,  but  was  again  a  writer  for  the  booksellers,  and  as 
yet  but  in  the  dawning  of  his  fame.  Dr.  Nugent  was  his 
father-in-law,  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  a  physician  of  talent 


130  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

and  instruction.  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir  John)  Hawkins  was 
admitted  into  this  association  from  having  been  a  member 
of  Johnson's  Ivy-Lane  club.  Originally  an  attorney,  he  had 
retired  from  the  practice  of  the  law,  in  consequence  of  a 
5  large  fortune  which  fell  to  him  in  right  of  his  wife,  and  was 
now  a  Middlesex  magistrate.  He  was,  moreover,  a  dabbler 
in  literature  and  music,  and  was  actually  engaged  on  a 
history  of  music,  which  he  subsequently  published  in  five 
ponderous  volumes.  To  him  we  are  also  indebted  for  a 

10  biography  of  Johnson,  which  appeared  after  the  death  of 
that  eminent  man.  Hawkins  was  as  mean  and  parsimoni- 
ous as  he  was  pompous  and  conceited.  He  forbore  to  par- 
take of  the  suppers  at  the  club,  and  begged  therefore  to  be 
excused  from  paying  his  share  of  the  reckoning.  "And 

15  was  he  excused?"  asked  Dr.  Burney  of  Johnson.  "  Oh,  yes, 
for  no  man  is  angry  at  another  for  being  inferior  to  himself. 
We  all  scorned  him  and  admitted  his  plea.  Yet  I  really 
believe  him  to  be  an  honest  man  at  bottom,  though  to  be 
sure  he  is  penurious,  and  he  is  mean,  and  it  must  be  owned 

20  he  has  a  tendency  to  savageness."  He  did  not  remain 
above  two  or  three  years  in  the  club ;  being  in  a  manner 
elbowed  out  in  consequence  of  his  rudeness  to  Burke. 

Mr.  Anthony  Chamier  was  Secretary  in  the  war-office, 
and  a  friend  of  Beauclerc,  by  whom  he  was  proposed.  We 

25  have  left  our  mention  of  Bennet  Langton  and  Topham 
Beauclerc  until  the  last,  because  we  have  most  to  say  about 
them.  They  were  doubtless  induced  to  join  the  club  through 
their  devotion  to  Johnson,  and  the  intimacy  of  these  two 
very  young  and  aristocratic  young  men  with  the  stern  and 

30  somewhat  melancholy  moralist  is  among  the  curiosities  of 
literature. 

Bennet  Langton  was  of  an  ancient  family,  who  held  their 
ancestral  estate  of  Langton  in  Lincolnshire, — a  great  title 
to  respect  with  Johnson.  "  Langton,  sir,"  he  would  say, 


LANGTON  AND  JOHNSON         131 

"  has  a  grant  of  free-warren  from  Henry  the  Second ;  and 
Cardinal  Stephen  Langton,  in  King  John's  reign,  was  of 
this  family." 

Langton  was  of  a  mild,  contemplative,  enthusiastic  nature. 
When  but  eighteen  years  of  age  he  was  so  delighted  with    5 
reading  Johnson's   "  Rambler,"  that  he  came  to  London 
chiefly  with  a  view  to  obtain  an  introduction  to  the  author. 
Boswell  gives  us  an  account  of  his  first  interview,  which 
took  place  in  the  morning.     It  is  not  often  that  the  per-     • 
sonal  appearance  of  an  author  agrees  with  the  preconceived  10 
ideas  of  his  admirer.     Langton,  from  perusing  the  writings 
of  Johnson,  expected  to  find  him  a  decent,  well-dressed,  in 
short  a  remarkably  decorous  philosopher.     Instead  of  which, 
down  from   his  bedchamber   about  noon,   came,   as   newly 
risen,  a  large  uncouth  figure,  with  a  little  dark  wig  which  15 
scarcely  covered  his  head,  and  his  clothes  hanging  loose 
about  him.     But  his  conversation  was  so  rich,  so  animated, 
and  so  forcible,  and  his  religious  and  political  notions  so 
congenial  with  those  in  which  Langton  had  been  educated, 
that  he  conceived  for  him  that  veneration  and  attachment  20 
which  he  ever  preserved. 

Langton  went  to  pursue  his  studies  at  Trinity  College, 
Oxford,  where  Johnson  saw  much  of  him  during  a  visit 
which  he  paid  to  the  University.  He  found  him  in  close 
intimacy  with  Topham  Beauclerc,  a  youth  two  years  older  25 
than  himself,  very  gay  and  dissipated,  and  wondered  what 
sympathies  could  draw  two  young  men  together  of  such 
opposite  characters.  On  becoming  acquainted  with  Beau- 
.clerc  he  found  that,  rake  though  he  was,  he  possessed  an 
ardent  love  of  literature,  an  acute  understanding,  polished  30 
wit,  innate  gentility,  and  high  aristocratic  breeding.  He 
was,  moreover,  the  only  son  of  Lord  Sidney  Beauclerc  and 
grandson  of  the  Duke  of  St.  Albans,  and  was  thought  in 
some  particulars  to  have  a  resemblance  to  Charles  the 


132  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

Second.  These  were  high  recommendations  with  Johnson  ; 
and  when  the  youth  testified  a  profound  respect  for  him 
and  an  ardent  admiration  of  his  talents,  the  conquest  was 
complete,  so  that  in  a  "  short  time,"  says  Boswell,  "  the 
5  moral  pious  Johnson  and  the  gay  dissipated  Beauclerc  were 
companions." 

The  intimacy  begun  ,in  college  chambers  was  continued 
when  the  youths  came  to  town  during  the  vacations.  The 
uncouth,  unwieldy  moralist  was  flattered  at  finding  himself 

10  an  object  of  idolatry  to  two  high-born,  high-bred,  aristocratic 
young  men,  and  throwing  gravity  aside,  was  ready  to  join  in 
their  vagaries  and  play  the  part  of  a  "young  man  upon 
town."  Such  at  least  is  the  picture  given  of  him  by  Bos- 
well  on  one  occasion  when  Beauclerc  and  Langton,  having 

15  supped  together  at  a  tavern,  determined  to  give  Johnson  a 
rouse  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  They  accordingly 
rapped  violently  at  the  door  of  his  chambers  in  the  Temple. 
The  indignant  sage  sallied  forth  in  his  shirt,  poker  in  hand, 
and  a  little  black  wig  on  the  top  of  his  head,  instead  of  hel- 

20  met;  prepared  to  wreak  vengeance  on  the  assailants  of  his 
castle;  but  when  his  two  young  friends  Lankey  and  Beau, 
as  he  used  to  call  them,  presented  themselves,  summoning 
him  forth  to  a  morning  ramble,  his  whole  manner  changed. 
"  What,  is  it  you,  ye  dogs  ? "  cried  he.  "  Faith  I  '11  have  a 

25  frisk  with  you  !  " 

So  said  so  done.  They  sallied  forth  together  into  Covent- 
Garden ;  figured  among  the  green-grocers  and  fruit- women, 
just  come  in  from  the  country  with  their  hampers ;  repaired 
to  a  neighboring  tavern,  where  Johnson  brewed  a  bowl  of 

30  bishop,  a  favorite  beverage  with  him,  grew  merry  over  his 
cups,  and  anathematized  sleep  in  two  lines,  from  Lord  Lans- 
downe's  drinking-song :  — 

"  Short,  very  short,  be  then  thy  reign, 
For  I'  m  in  haste  to  laugh  and  drink  again." 


LANGTON   AND   BEAUCLERC  133 

They  then  took  boat  again,  rowed  to  Billingsgate,  and  John- 
son and  Beauclerc  determined,  like  "mad  wags,"  to  "keep 
it  up  "  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  Langton,  however,  the  most 
sober-minded  of  the  three,  pleaded  an  engagement  to  break- 
fast with  some  young  ladies ;  whereupon  the  great  moralist  5 
reproached  him  with  "  leaving  his  social  friends  to  go  and 
sit  with  a  set  of  wretched  un-ided'd  girls." 

This  madcap  freak  of  the  great  lexicographer  made  a  sen- 
sation, as  may  well  be  supposed,  among  his  intimates.     "  I 
heard  of  your  frolic  t'other  night,"  said   Garrick  to  him;  10 
"you'll  be  in  the  'Chronicle.'"     He  uttered  worse  forebod- 
ings to  others.     "  I  shall  have  my  old  friend  to  bail  out  of 
the  round-house,"  said  he.     Johnson,  however,  valued  him- 
self upon   having  thus  enacted  a  chapter  in  the  "  Rake's 
Progress,"  and  crowed  over  Garrick  on  the  occasion.     "He  15 
durst  not  do  such  a  thing  !  "  chuckled  he  ;  "  his  wife  would 
not  let  him  !  " 

When  these  two  young  men  entered  the  club,  Langton 
was  about  twenty-two,  and  Beauclerc  about  twenty-four  years 
of  age,  and  both  were  launched  on  London  life.  Langton,  20 
however,  was  still  the  mild,  enthusiastic  scholar,  steeped  to 
the  lips  in  Greek,  with  fine  conversational  powers,  and  an 
invaluable  talent  for  listening.  He  was  upwards  of  six  feet 
high,  and  very  spare.  "  Oh  !  that  we  could  sketch  him," 
exclaims  Miss  Hawkins,  in  her  "  Memoirs,"  "  with  his  mild  25 
countenance,  his  elegant  features,  and  his  sweet  smile,  sitting 
with  one  leg  twisted  round  the  other,  as  if  fearing  to  occupy 
more  space  than  was  equitable  ;  his  person  inclining  forward, 
as  if  wanting  strength  to  support  his  weight,  and  his  arms 
crossed  over  his  bosom,  or  his  hands  locked  together  on  his  30 
knee."  Beauclerc,  on  such  occasions,  sportively  compared 
him  to  a  stork  in  Raphael's  Cartoons,  standing  on  one 
leg.  Beauclerc  was  more  a  "  man  upon  town,"  a  lounger 
in  St.  James's  Street,  an  associate  with  George  Selwyn,  with 


134  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

Walpole,  and  other  aristocratic  wits  ;  a  man  of  fashion  at 
court ;  a  casual  frequenter  of  the  gaming-table  ;  yet,  with 
all  this,  he  alternated  in  the  easiest  and  happiest  manner 
the  scholar  and  the  man  of  letters ;  lounged  into  the  club 
5  with  the  most  perfect  self-possession,  bringing  with  him  the 
careless  grace  and  polished  wit  of  high-bred  society,  but 
making  himself  cordially  at  home  among  his  learned  fellow- 
members. 

The  gay  yet  lettered  rake  maintained  his  sway  over  John- 

10  son,  who  was  fascinated  by  that  air  of  the  world,  that  inef- 
fable tone  of  good  society  in  which  he  felt  himself  deficient, 
especially  as  the  possessor  of  it  always  paid  homage  to  his 
superior  talent.  "  Beauclerc,"  he  would  say,  using  a  quota- 
tion from  Pope,  "  has  a  love  of  folly,  but  a  scorn  of  fools ; 

15  everything  he  does  shows  the  one,  and  everything  he  says, 
the  other."  Beauclerc  delighted  in  rallying  the  stern  moralist 
of  whom  others  stood  in  awe,  and  no  one,  according  to 
Boswell,  could  take  -equal  liberty  with  him  with  impunity. 
Johnson,  it  is  well  known,  was  often  shabby  and  negligent 

20  in  his  dress,  and  not  over-cleanly  in  his  person.  On  receiv- 
ing a  pension  from  the  crown,  his  friends  vied  with  each  other 
in  respectful  congratulations.  Beauclerc  simply  scanned  his 
person  with  a  whimsical  glance,  and  hoped  that,  like  Falstaff, 
"  he  'd  in  future  purge  and  live  cleanly  like  a  gentleman." 

25  Johnson  took  the  hint  with  unexpected  good-humor,  and 
profited  by  it. 

Still  Beauclerc's  satirical  vein,  which  darted  shafts  on  every 
side,  was  not  always  tolerated  by  Johnson.  "  Sir,"  said  he 
on  one  occasion,  "you  never  open  your  mouth  but  with 

30  intention  to  give  pain ;  and  you  have  often  given  me  pain, 
not  from  the  power  of  what  you  have  said,  but  from  seeing 
your  intention." 

When  it  was  at  first  proposed  to  enroll  Goldsmith  among 
the  members  of  this  association,  there  seems  to  have  been 


GOLDSMITH   AT   THE   CLUB  135 

some  demur ;  at  least  so  says  the  pompous  Hawkins.  "  As 
he  wrote  for  the  booksellers,  we  of  the  club  looked  on  him 
as  a  mere  literary  drudge,  equal  to  the  task  of  compiling 
and  translating,  but  little  capable  of  original  and  still  less  of 
poetical  composition."  5 

Even  for  some  time  after  his  admission  he  continued  to 
be  regarded  in  a  dubious  light  by  some  of  the  members. 
Johnson  and  Reynolds,  of  course,  were  well  aware  of  his 
merits,  nor  was  Burke  a  stranger  to  them ;  but  to  the  others 
he  was  as  yet  a  sealed  book,  and  the  outside  was  not  pre-  10 
possessing.  His  ungainly  person  and  awkward  manners  were 
against  him  with  men  accustomed  to  the  graces  of  society, 
and  he  was  not  sufficiently  at  home  to  give  play  to  his  humor 
and  to  that  bonhommie  which  won  the  hearts  of  all  who 
knew  him.  He  felt  strange  and  out  of  place  in  this  new  15 
sphere ;  he  felt  at  times  the  cool  satirical  eye  of  the  courtly 
Beauclerc  scanning  him,  and  the  more  he  attempted  to 
appear  at  his  ease,  the  more  awkward  he  became. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Describe  the  members  of  the  club. 

2.  What  are  some  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's  pictures  that  may  be 
seen  in  this  country  ? 

3.  Why  should  the  meetings  of  the  club  have  become  famous  ?     Is 
there  any  club  in  this  country  the  meetings  of  which  correspond  in  any 
sense  with  the  meetings  of  the  Johnson-Goldsmith  club? 

4.  \Vhy  does  Irving  give  more  space  to  Langton  and  Beauclerc  than 
to  the  other  members  ? 


CHAPTER    XV 

Johnson  a  Monitor  to  Goldsmith;  Finds  him  in  Distress  with  his  Landlady; 
Relieved  by  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield —  The  Oratorio  —  Poem  of  the  Traveller 
—  The  Poet  and  his  Dog  —  Success  of  the  Poem — Astonishment  of  the 
Club — Observations  on  the  Poem. 

Johnson  had  now  become  one  of  Goldsmith's  best  friends 

and  advisers.      He  knew  all  the  weak  points  of  his  character, 

but  he  knew  also  his  merits ;   and  while  he  would  rebuke 

him  like  a  child,  and  rail  at  his  errors  and  follies,  he  would 

5  suffer  no  one  else  to  undervalue  him.     Goldsmith  knew  the 

soundness  of  his  judgment  and  his  practical  benevolence, 

and  often  sought  his  counsel  and  aid  amid  the  difficulties 

into  which  his  heedlessness  was  continually  plunging  him. 

"  I    received  one   morning,"  says  Johnson,  "  a    message 

10  from  poor  Goldsmith  that  he  was  in  great  distress,  and,  as 
it  was  not  in  his  power  to  come  to  me,  begging  that  I  would 
come  to  him  as  soon  as  possible.  I  sent  him  a  guinea,  and 
promised  to  come  to  him  directly.  I  accordingly  went  as 
soon  as  I  was  dressed,  and  found  that  his  landlady  had 

15  arrested  him  for  his  rent,  at  which  he  was  in  a  violent  pas- 
sion :  I  perceived  that  he  had  already  changed  my  guinea, 
and  had  a  bottle  of  Madeira  and  a  glass  before  him.  I  put 
the  cork  into  the  bottle,  desired  he  would  be  calm,  and  began 
to  talk  to  him  of  the  means  by  which  he  might  be  extricated. 

20  He  then  told  me  he  had  a  novel  ready  for  the  press,  which 
he  produced  to  me.  I  looked  into  it  and  saw  its  merit ; 
told  the  landlady  I  should  soon  return  ;  and,  having  gone 
to  a  bookseller,  sold  it  for  sixty  pounds.  I  brought  Gold- 
smith the  money,  and  he  discharged  his  rent,  not  without 

25  rating  his  landlady  in  a  high  tone  for  having  used  him  so  ill." 

1*6 


THE    "VICAR   OF    \\AKEFIELD"  137 

The  novel  in  question  was  the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield  " ;  the 
bookseller  to  whom  Johnson  sold  it  was  Francis  Newbery, 
nephew  to  John.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  this  captivating 
work,  which  has  obtained  and  preserved  an  almost  unrivalled 
popularity  in  various  languages,  was  so  little  appreciated  by  5 
the  bookseller,  that  he  kept  it  by  him  for  nearly  two  years 
unpublished ! 

Goldsmith  had,  as  yet,  produced  nothing  of  moment  in 
poetry.  Among  his  literary  jobs,  it  is  true,  was  an  Oratorio 
entitled  "The  Captivity,"  founded  on  the  bondage  of  the  10 
Israelites  in  Babylon.  It  was  one  of  those  unhappy  off- 
springs of  the  Muse  ushered  into  existence  amid  the  dis- 
tortions of  music.  Most  of  the  Oratorio  has  passed  into 
oblivion  ;  but  the  following  song  from  it  will  never  die. 

"  The  wretch  condemned  from  life  to  part,  '  5 

Still,  still  on  hope  relies, 
And  every  pang  that  rends  the  heart 
Bids  expectation  rise. 

"  Hope,  like  the  glimmering  taper's  light, 

Illumes  and  cheers  our  way; 
And  still,  as  darker  grows  the  night, 
Emits  a  brighter  ray." 

Goldsmith  distrusted  his  qualifications  to  succeed  in 
poetry,  and  doubted  the  disposition  of  the  public  mind  in 
regard  to  it.  "  I  fear,"  said  he,  "  I  have  come  too  late  into  25 
the  world ;  Pope  and  other  poets  have  taken  up  the  places 
in  the  temple  of  Fame ;  and  as  few  at  any  period  can  pos- 
sess poetical  reputation,  a  man  of  genius  can  now  hardly 
acquire  it."  Again,  on  another  occasion,  he  observes:  "Of 
all  kinds  of  ambition,  as  things  are  now  circumstanced,  per-  30 
haps  that  which  pursues  poetical  fame  is  the  wildest.  What 
from  the  increased  refinement  of  the  times,  from  the  diversity 
of  judgment  produced  by  opposing  systems  of  criticism,  and 
from  the  more  prevalent  divisions  of  opinion  influenced  by 


138  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

party,  the  strongest  and  happiest  efforts  can  expect  to  please 
but  in  a  very  narrow  circle.." 

At  this  very  time  he  had  by  him  his  poem  of  "  The  Trav- 
eller." The  plan  of  it,  as  has  already  been  observed,  was 
5  conceived  many  years  before,  during  his  travels  in  Switzer- 
land, and  a  sketch  of  it  sent  from  that  country  to  his  brother 
Henry  in  Ireland.  The  original  outline  is  said  to  have 
embraced  a  wider  scope ;  but  it  was  probably  contracted 
through  diffidence,  in  the  process  of  finishing  the  parts. 

10  It  had  laid  by  him  for  several  years  in  a  crude  state,  and  it 
was  with  extreme  hesitation  and  after  much  revision  that  he 
at  length  submitted  it  to  Dr.  Johnson.  The  frank  and  warm 
approbation  of  the  latter  encouraged  him  to  finish  it  for 
the  press ;  and  Dr.  Johnson  himself  contributed  a  few  lines 

15  towards  the  conclusion. 

We  hear  much  about  "poetic  inspiration,"  and  the  "poet's 
eye  in  a  fine  phrensy  rolling ; "  but  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  gives 
an  anecdote  of  Goldsmith  while  engaged  upon  his  poem,  cal- 
culated to  cure  our  notions  about  the  ardor  of  composition. 

20  Calling  upon  the  poet  one  day,  he  opened  the  door  without 
ceremony,  and  found  him  in  the  double  occupation  of  turning 
a  couplet  and  teaching  a  pet  dog  to  sit  upon  his  haunches. 
At  one  time  he  would  glance  his  eye  at  his  desk,  and  at 
another  shake  his  finger  at  the  dog  to  make  him  retain  his 

25  position.  The  last  lines  on  the  page  were  still  wet;  they 
form  a  part  of  the  description  of  Italy : 

"  By  sports  like  these  are  all  their  cares  beguiled, 
The  sports  of  children  satisfy  the  child." 

Goldsmith,  with  his  usual  good-humor,  joined  in  the  laugh 
30  caused  by  his  whimsical    employment,  and  acknowledged 
that  his  boyish  sport  with  the  dog  suggested  the  stanza. 

The  poem  was  published  on  the  igth  of  December,  1764, 
in  a  quarto  form,  by  Newbery,  and  was  the  first  of  his  works 


ASTONISHMENT   OF  THE   CLUB  139 

to  which  Goldsmith  prefixed  his  name.  As  a  testimony  of 
cherished  and  well- merited  affection,  he  dedicated  it  to  his 
brother  Henry.  There  is  an  amusing  affectation  of  indif- 
ference as  to  its  fate  expressed  in  the  dedication.  "What 
reception  a  poem  may  find,"  says  he,  "  which  has  neither  5 
abuse,  party,  nor  blank  verse  to  support  it,  I  cannot  tell,  nor 
am  I  solicitous  to  know."  The  truth  is,  no  one  was  more 
emulous  and  anxious  for  poetic  fame ;  and  never  was  he 
more  anxious  than  in  the  present  instance,  for  it  was  his 
grand  stake.  Mr.  Johnson  aided  the  launching  of  the  poem  10 
by  a  favorable  notice  in  the  "  Critical  Review  ";  other  peri- 
odical works  came  out  in  its  favor.  Some  of  the  author's 
friends  complained  that  it  did  not  command  instant  and 
wide  popularity ;  that  it  was  a  poem  to  win,  not  to  strike  : 
it  went  on  rapidly  increasing  in  favor;  in  three  months  a  15 
second  edition  was  issued ;  shortly  afterwards,  a  third ;  then 
a  fourth;  and,  before  the  year  was  out,  the  author  was  pro- 
nounced the  best  poet  of  his  time. 

The  appearance  of  "The  Traveller  "  at  once  altered  Gold- 
smith's intellectual  standing  in  the  estimation  of  society  ;  but  20 
its  effect  upon  the  club,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  account 
given  by  Hawkins,  was  almost  ludicrous.  They  were  lost  in 
astonishment  that  a  "  newspaper  essayist  "  and  "bookseller's 
drudge  "  should  have  written  such  a  poem.  On  the  evening 
of  its  announcement  to  them  Goldsmith  had  gone  away  early,  25 
after  "rattling  away  as  usual,"  and  they  knew  not  how  to 
reconcile  his  heedless  garrulity  with  the  serene  beauty,  the 
easy  grace,  the  sound  good  sense,  and  the  occasional  ele- 
vation of  his  poetry.  They  could  scarcely  believe  that  such 
magic  numbers  had  flowed  from  a  man  to  whom  in  general,  30 
says  Johnson,  "  it  was  with  difficulty  they  could  give  a 
hearing."  "  Well,"  exclaimed  Chamier,  "  I  do  believe  he 
wrote  this  poem  himself,  and  let  me  tell  you,  that  is  believing 
a  great  deal." 


140 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 


At  the  next  meeting  of  the  club,  Chamier  sounded  the 
author  a  little  about  his  poem.  "  Mr.  Goldsmith,"  said  he, 
"what  do  you  mean  by  the  last  word  in  the  first  line  of 
your  'Traveller,'  'Remote,  unfriended,  melancholy,  slow' I 
5  — do  you  mean  tardiness  of  locomotion  ?  "  —  "  Yes,"  replied 
Goldsmith,  inconsiderately,  being  probably  flurried  at  the 
moment.  "  No,  sir,"  interposed  his  protecting  friend  John- 
son, "  you  did  not  mean  tardiness  of  locomotion  ;  you  meant 
that  sluggishness  of  mind  which  comes  upon  a  man  in  soli- 

10  tude."  "Ah,"  exclaimed  Goldsmith,  "that  was  what  I 
meant."  Chamier  immediately  believed  that  Johnson  him- 
self had  written  the  line,  and  a  rumor  became  prevalent 
that  he  was  the  author  of  many  of  the  finest  passages. 
This  was  ultimately  set  at  rest  by  Johnson  himself,  who 

15  marked  with  a  pencil  all  the  verses  he  had  contributed,  nine 
in  number,  inserted  towards  the  conclusion,  and  by  no  means 
the  best  in  the  poem.  He  moreover,  with  generous  warmth, 
pronounced  it  the  finest  poem  that  had  appeared  since  the 
days  of  Pope. 

20  But  one  of  the  highest  testimonials  to  the  charm  of  the 
poem  was  given  by  Miss'  Reynolds,  who  had  toasted  poor 
Goldsmith  as  the  ugliest  man  of  her  acquaintance.  Shortly 
after  the  appearance  of  "  The  Traveller,"  Dr.  Johnson  read 
it  aloud  from  beginning  to  end  in  her  presence.  "  Well," 

25  exclaimed  she,  when  he  had  finished,  "  I  never  more  shall 
think  Dr.  Goldsmith  ugly  !  " 

On  another  occasion,  when  the  merits  of  "  The  Traveller  " 
were  discussed  at  Reynolds's  board,  Langton  declared  "there 
was  not  a  bad  line  in  the  poem,  not  one  of  Dryden's  care- 

30  less  verses."  "  I  was  glad,"  observed  Reynolds,  "  to  hear 
Charles  Fox  say  it  was  one  of  the  finest  poems  in  the  Eng- 
lish language."  "Why  was  you  glad?"  rejoined  Langton, 
"  you  surely  had  no  doubt  of  this  before."  "  No,"  interposed 
Johnson,  decisively  ;  "  the  merit  of  '  The  Traveller  '  is  so  well 


INCARNATE  TOADYISM  141 

established  that  Mr.  Fox's  praise  cannot  augment  it,  nor  his 
censure  diminish  it." 

Boswell,  who  was  absent  from  England  at  the  time  of  the 
publication  of  the  "  Traveller,"  was  astonished,  on  his  return, 
to  find  Goldsmith,  whom  he  had  so  much  undervalued,  sud-  5 
denly  elevated  almost  to  a  par  with  his  idol.  He  accounted 
for  it  by  concluding  that  much  both  of  the  sentiments  and 
expression  of  the  poem  had  been  derived  from  conversations 
with  Johnson.  "  He  imitates  you,  sir,"  said  this  incarnation 
of  toadyism.  "  Why  no,  sir,"  replied  Johnson,  "  Jack  Hawks-  10 
worth  is  one  of  my  imitators,  but  not  Goldsmith.  Goldy, 
sir,  has  great  merit."  "  But,  sir,  he  is  much  indebted  to  you 
for  his  getting  so  high  in  the  public  estimation."  "  Why,  sir, 
he  has,  perhaps,  got  sooner  to  it  by  his  -intimacy  with  me." 

The  poem  went  through  several  editions  in  the  course  of  15 
the  first  year,  and  received  some  few  additions  and  correc- 
tions from  the  author's  pen.     It  produced  a  golden  harvest 
to  Mr.  Newbery ;  but  all  the  remuneration  on  record,  doled 
out  by  his  niggard  hand  to  the  author,  was  twenty  guineas! 


TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Make  an  outline  for  a  composition  on  Goldsmith's  heedlessness. 
Develop  the  first  two  main  divisions  of  your  outline  into  an  essay  of 
about  two  hundred  words. 

2.  Has  the  contemporary  judgment  of  about  1 765,  regarding  Gold- 
smith as  the  best  poet  of  his  time,  been  sustained  ?     What  other  poets 
wrote  at  about  this  period  ? 

3.  What  characteristics  in   the  man  Goldsmith  made  possible  his 
writing  "  The  Traveller  "  ? 

4.  What  was  Goldsmith's  pay  for  the  two  poems  which  made  his 
everlasting  fame  ? 

5.  What  was  the  first  of  Goldsmith's  works  to  which  he  prefixed 
his  name  ?      Why  had  his   name  not  been  printed   as  the  author  of 
preceding  works  ? 


CHAPTER  XVI 

New  Lodgings  —  Johnson's  Compliment  —  A  Titled  Patron — The  Poet  at 
Northumberland  House  —  His  Independence  of  the  Great—  The  Countess 
of  Northumberland  —  Edwin  and  Angelina  —  Gosfield  and  Lord  Clare  — 
Publication  of  Essays —  Evils  of  a  Rising  Reputation —  Hangers-on  —  Job- 
Writing —  Goody  Two-shoes  —  A  Medical  Campaign  —  Mrs.  Sidebotham. 

Goldsmith,  now  that  he  was  rising  in  the  world,  and 
becoming  a  notoriety,  felt  himself  called  upon  to  improve 
his  style  of  living.  He  accordingly  emerged  from  Wine- 
Office  Court,  and  took  chambers  in  the  Temple.  It  is  true 

5  they  were  but  of  humble  pretensions,  situated  on  what  was 
then  the  library  staircase,  and  it  would  appear  that  he  was 
a  kind  of  inmate  with  Jeffs,  the  butler  of  the  society.  Still 
he  was  in  the  Temple,  that  classic  region  rendered  famous 
by  the  Spectator  and  other  essayists  as  the  abode  of  gay 

10  wits  and  thoughtful  men  of  letters ;  and  which,  with  its 
retired  courts  and  embowered  gardens,  in  the  very  heart 
of  a  noisy  metropolis,  is,  to  the  quiet-seeking  student  and 
author,  an  oasis  freshening  with  verdure  in  the  midst  of  a 
desert.  Johnson,  who  had  become  a  kind  of  growling  super- 

15  visor  of  the  poet's  affairs,  paid  him  a  visit  soon  after  he  had 
installed  himself  in  his  new  quarters,  and  went  prying  about 
the  apartment,  in  his  near-sighted  manner,  examining  every- 
thing minutely.  Goldsmith  was  fidgeted  by  this  curious 
scrutiny,  and  apprehending  a  disposition  to  find  fault,  ex- 

20  claimed,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  money  in  both 
pockets,  "  I  shall  soon  be  in  better  chambers  than  these." 
The  harmless  bravado  drew  a  reply  from  Johnson,  which 
touched  the  chord  of  proper  pride.  "Nay,  sir,"  said  he, 
"never  mind  that.  Nil  te  quaesiveris  extra,"  —  implying 

142 


A  TITLED   PATRON  143 

that  his  reputation  rendered  him  independent  of  outward 
show.  Happy  would  it  have  been  for  poor  Goldsmith, 
could  he  have  kept  this  consolatory  compliment  perpetu- 
ally in  mind,  and  squared  his  expenses  accordingly. 

Among  the   persons  of  rank  who  were  struck  with  the    5 
merits  of  the  "  Traveller "  was  the  Earl  (afterwards  Duke) 
of  Northumberland.      He  procured  several  other  of  Gold- 
smith's writings,  the  perusal  of  which  tended  to  elevate  the 
author  in  his  good  opinion,  and  to  gain  for  him  his  good 
will.     The  Earl  held  the  office  of  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ire-  10 
land,  and  understanding  Goldsmith  was  an  Irishman,  was 
disposed  to  extend  to  him  the  patronage  which  his  high  post 
afforded.     He  intimated  the  same  to  his  relative,  Dr.  Percy, 
who,   he  found,   was  well  acquainted  with   the   poet,   and 
expressed   a  wish   that  the  latter  should  wait  upon   him.  15 
Here,  then,  was  another  opportunity  for  Goldsmith  to  better 
his  fortune,  had  he  been  knowing  and  worldly  enough  to 
profit  by  it.     Unluckily  the  path  to  fortune    lay  through 
the  aristocratical  mazes  of  Northumberland  House,  and  the 
poet  blundered  at  the  outset.     The  following  is  the  account  20 
he  used  to  give  of  his  visit :  "  I  dressed  myself  in  the  best 
manner  I  could,  and,  after  studying  some  compliments  I 
thought  necessary  on  such  an  occasion,  proceeded  to  North- 
umberland House,  and  acquainted  the  servants  that  I  had 
particular  business  with  the  Duke.     They  showed  me  into  25 
an  antechamber,  where,  after  waiting  some  time,  a  gentle- 
man, very  elegantly  dressed,  made  his  appearance:  taking 
him  for  the  Duke,  I  delivered  all  the  fine  things  I  had  com- 
posed in  order  to  compliment  him  on  the  honor  he  had  done 
me  ;  when,  to  my  great  astonishment,  he  told  me  I  had  mis-  30 
taken  him  for  his  master,  who  would  see  me  immediately. 
At  that  instant  the  Duke  came  into  the  apartment,  and  I 
was  so   confounded  on  the  occasion  that  I  wanted  words 
barely  sufficient  to  express  the  sense  I  entertained  of  the 


144  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

Duke's  politeness,  and  went  away  exceedingly  chagrined  at 
the  blunder  I  had  committed." 

Sir  John  Hawkins,  in  his  "Life  of  Dr.  Johnson,"  gives 
some  farther  particulars  of  this  visit,  of  which  he  was,  in  part, 
5  a  witness.  "  Having  one  day,"  says  he,  "  a  call  to  make  on 
the  late  Duke  (then  Earl)  of  Northumberland,  I  found  Gold- 
smith waiting  for  an  audience  in  an  outer  room :  I  asked 
him  what  had  brought  him  there  ;  he  told  me,  an  invitation 
from  his  lordship.  I  made  my  business  as  short  as  I  could, 

10  and,  as  a  reason,  mentioned  that  Dr.  Goldsmith  was  waiting 
without.  The  Earl  asked  me  if  I  was  acquainted  with  him. 
I  told  him  that  I  was,  adding  what  I  thought  was  most 
likely  to  recommend  him.  I  retired,  and  stayed  in  the  outer 
room  to  take  him  home.  Upon  his  coming  out,  I  asked 

15  him  the  result  of  his  conversation.  '  His  lordship,'  said  he, 
'told  me  he  had  read  my  poem,  meaning  the  "Traveller," 
and  was  much  delighted  with  it ;  that  he  was  going  to  be 
lord-lieutenant  of  Ireland,  and  that,  hearing  I  was  a  native 
of  that  country,  he  should  be  glad  to  do  me  any  kindness.' 

20  'And  what  did  you  answer,'  said  I,  'to  this  gracious  offer? ' 
'  Why,'  said  he,  '  I  could  say  nothing  but  that  I  had  a 
brother  there,  a  clergyman,  that  stood  in  need  of  help:  as 
for  myself,  I  have  no  great  dependence  on  the  promises  of 
great  men;  I  look  to  the  booksellers  for  support;  they  are 

25  my  best  friends,  and  I  am  not  inclined  to  forsake  them  for 
others.'"  "Thus,"  continues  Sir  John,  "did  this  idiot  in 
the  affairs  of  the  world  trifle  with  his  fortunes,  and  put  back 
the  hand  that  was  held  out  to  assist  him." 

We  cannot  join  with  Sir  John  in  his  worldly  sneer  at  the 

30  conduct  of  Goldsmith  on  this  occasion.  While  we  admire 
that  honest  independence  of  spirit  which  prevented  him 
from  asking  favors  for  himself,  we  love  that  warmth  of  affec- 
tion which  instantly  sought  to  advance  the  fortunes  of  a 
brother;  but  the  peculiar  merits  of  poor  Goldsmith  seem  to 


INDEPENDENCE   OF   CHARACTER  145 

have  been  little  understood  by  the  Hawkinses,  the  Boswells, 
and  the  other  biographers  of  the  day. 

After  all,  the  introduction  to  Northumberland  House  did 
not  prove  so  complete  a  failure  as  the  humorous  account 
given  by  Goldsmith,  and  the  cynical  account  given  by  Sir  5 
John  Hawkins,  might  lead  one  to  suppose.  Dr.  Percy,  the 
heir  male  of  the  ancient  Percies,  brought  the  poet  into  the 
acquaintance  of  his  kinswoman,  the  countess ;  who,  before 
her  marriage  with  the  Earl,  was  in  her  own  right  heiress  of 
the  House  of  Northumberland.  "  She  was  a  lady,"  says  10 
Boswell,  "  not  only  of  high  dignity  of  spirit,  such  as  became 
her  noble  blood,  but  of  excellent  understanding  and  lively 
talents."  Under  her  auspices  a  poem  of  Goldsmith's  had 
an  aristocratical  introduction  to  the  world.  This  was  the 
beautiful  ballad  of  "The  Hermit,"  originally  published  15 
under  the  name  of  "  Edwin  and  Angelina."  It  was  sug- 
gested by  an  old  English  ballad  beginning  "  Gentle  Herds- 
man," shown  him  by  Dr.  Percy,  who  was  at  that  time  mak- 
ing his  famous  collection,  entitled  "  Reliques  of  Ancient 
English  Poetry,"  which  he  submitted  to  the  inspection  of  20 
Goldsmith  prior  to  publication.  A  few  copies  only  of  "  The 
Hermit "  were  printed  at  first,  with  the  following  title- 
page  :  "  Edwin  and  Angelina :  a  Ballad.  By  Mr.  Gold- 
smith. Printed  for  the  Amusement  of  the  Countess  of 
Northumberland."  25 

All  this,  though  it  may  not  have  been  attended  with  any 
immediate  pecuniary  advantage,  contributed  to  give  Gold- 
smith's name  and  poetry  the  high  stamp  of  fashion,  so 
potent  in  England:  the  circle  at  Northumberland  House, 
however,  was  of  too  stately  and  aristocratical  a  nature  to  be  30 
much  to  his  taste,  and  we  do  not  find  that  he  became 
familiar  in  it. 

He  was  much  more  at  home  at  Gosfield,  the  seat  of  his 
countryman,  Robert  Nugent,  afterwards  Baron  Nugent  and 


146  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

Viscount  Clare,  who  appreciated  his  merits  even  more 
heartily  than  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  and  occasionally 
made  him  his  guest  both  in  town  and  country.  Nugent  is 
described  as  a  jovial  voluptuary,  who  left  the  Roman-Catho- 
5  lie  for  the  Protestant  religion,  with  a  view  to  bettering  his 
fortunes ;  he  had  an  Irishman's  inclination  for  rich  widows, 
and  an  Irishman's  luck  with  the  sex;  having  been  thrice 
married,  and  gained  a  fortune  with  each  wife.  He  was 
now  nearly  sixty,  with  a  remarkably  loud  voice,  broad  Irish 

10  brogue,  and  ready,  but  somewhat  coarse  wit.  With  all  his 
occasional  coarseness  he  was  capable  of  high  thought,  and 
had  produced  poems  which  showed  a  truly  poetic  vein. 
He  was  long  a  member  of  the  House  of  Commons,  where 
his  ready  wit,  his  fearless  decision,  and  good-humored 

15  audacity  of  expression  always  gained  him  a  hearing,  though 
his  tall  person  and  awkward  manner  gained  him  the  nick- 
name of  Squire  Gawky  among  the  political  scribblers  of 
the  day.  With  a  patron  of  this  jovial  temperament,  Gold- 
smith probably  felt  more  at  ease  than  with  those  of  higher 

20  refinement. 

The  celebrity  which  Goldsmith  had  acquired  by  his  poem 
of  "  The  Traveller  "  occasioned  a  resuscitation  of  many  of 
his  miscellaneous  and  anonymous  tales  and  essays  from 
the  various  newspapers  and  other  transient  publications  in 

25  which  they  lay  dormant.  These  he  published  in  1765,  in 
a  collected  form,  under  the  title  of  "Essays  by  Mr.  Gold- 
smith." "  The  following  Essays,"  observes  he  in  his  pref- 
ace, "have  already  appeared  at  different  times,  and  in 
different  publications.  The  pamphlets  in  which  they  were 

30  inserted  being  generally  unsuccessful,  these  shared  the  com- 
mon fate,  without  assisting  the  booksellers'  aims,  or  extend- 
ing the  author's  reputation.  The  public  were  too  strenuously 
employed  with  their  own  follies  to  be  assiduous  in  estimat- 
ing mine ;  so  that  many  of  my  best  attempts  in  this  way 


IRISH   HANGERS-ON  147 

have  fallen  victims  to  the  transient  topic  of  the  times  —  the 
Ghost  in  Cock  Lane,  or  the  Siege  of  Ticonderoga. 

"  But,  though  they  have  passed  pretty  silently  into  the 
world,  I  can  by  no  means  complain  of  their  circulation. 
The  magazines  and  papers  of  the  day  have  indeed  been  5 
liberal  enough  in  this  respect.  Most  of  these  essays  have 
been  regularly  reprinted  twice  or  thrice  a  year,  and  con- 
veyed to  the  public  through  the  kennel  of  some  engaging 
compilation.  If  there  be  a  pride  in  multiplied  editions,  I 
have  seen  some  of  my  labors  sixteen  times  reprinted,  and  10 
claimed  by  different  parents  as  their  own.  I  have  seen 
them  flourished  at  the  beginning  with  praise,  and  signed  at 
the  end  with  the  names  of  Philautos,  Philalethes,  Phileleu- 
theros,  and  Philanthropos.  It  is  time,  however,  at  last  to 
vindicate  my  claims ;  and  as  these  entertainers  of  the  pub-  15 
lie,  as  they  call  themselves,  have  partly  lived  upon  me  for 
some  years,  let  me  now  try  if  I  cannot  live  a  little  upon 
myself." 

It  was  but  little,  in  fact;  for  all  the  pecuniary  emolument 
he  received  from  the  volume  was  twenty  guineas.     Itliad  a  20 
good  circulation,  however,  was  translated  into  French,  and 
has  maintained  its  stand  among  the  British  classics. 

Notwithstanding  that  the  reputation  of  Goldsmith  had 
greatly  risen,  his  finances  were  often  at  a  very  low  ebb, 
owing  to  his  heedlessness  as  to  expense,  his  liability  to  be  25 
imposed  upon,  and  a  spontaneous  and  irresistible  propensity 
to  give  to  every  one  who  asked.  The  very  rise  in  his  repu- 
tation had  increased  these  embarrassments.  It  had  enlarged 
his  circle  of  needy  acquaintances,  authors  poorer  in  pocket 
than  himself,  who  came  in  search  of  literary  counsel ;  which  30 
generally  meant  a  guinea  and  a  breakfast.  And  then  his 
Irish  hangers-on  !  "Our  Doctor,"  said  one  of  these  sponges, 
"  had  a  constant  levee  of  his  distressed  countrymen,  whose 
wants,  as  far  as  he  was  able,  he  always  relieved ;  and  he  has 


148  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

often   been   known   to   leave  himself  without  a  guinea,    in 
order  to  supply  the  necessities  of  others." 

This  constant  drainage  of  the  purse  therefore  obliged  him 
to  undertake  all  jobs  proposed  by  the  booksellers,  and  to 

5  keep  up  a  kind  of  running  account  with  Mr.  Newbery ;  who 
was  his  banker  on  all  occasions,  sometimes  for  pounds, 
sometimes  for  shillings ;  but  who  was  a  rigid  accountant, 
and  took  care  to  be  amply  repaid  in  manuscript.  Many 
effusions,  hastily  penned  in  these  moments  of  exigency, 

10  were  published  anonymously,  and  never  claimed.  Some  of 
them  have  but  recently  been  traced  to  his  pen  ;  while  of 
many  the  true  authorship  will  probably  never  be  discovered. 
Among  others,  it  is  suggested,  and  with  great  probability, 
that  he  wrote  for  Mr.  Newbery  the  famous  nursery  story  of 

15  "Goody  Two  Shoes,"  which  appeared  in  1765,  at  a  moment 
when  Goldsmith  was  scribbling  for  Newbery,  and  much 
pressed  for  funds.  Several  quaint  little  tales  introduced  in 
his  Essays  show  that  he  had  a  turn  for  this  species  of  mock 
history;  and  the  advertisement  and  title-page  bear  the  stamp 

20  of  his'  sly  and  playful  humor. 

"  We  are  desired  to  give  notice  that  there  is  in  the  press, 
and  speedily  will  be  published,  either  by  subscription  or  other- 
wise, as  the  public  shall  please  to  determine,  the  '  History 
of  Little  Goody  Two  Shoes,  otherwise  Mrs.  Margery  Two 

25  Shoes  ' ;  with  the  means  by  which  she  acquired  learning  and 
wisdom,  and,  in  consequence  thereof,  her  estate ;  set  forth 
at  large  for  the  benefit  of  those 

"  Who,  from  a  state  of  rags  and  care, 

And  having  shoes  but  half  a  pair, 

30  Their  fortune  and  their  fame  should  fix, 

And  gallop  in  a  coach  and  six." 

The  world  is  probably  not  aware  of  the  ingenuity,  humor, 
good  sense,  and  sly  satire  contained  in  many  of  the  old  Eng- 
lish nursery-tales.  They  have  evidently  been  the  sportive 


THE    MEDICAL    PROFESSION  149 

productions  of  able  writers,  who  would  not  trust  their  names 
to  productions  that  might  be  considered  beneath  their  dig- 
nity. The  ponderous  works  on  which  they  relied  for  immor- 
tality have  perhaps  sunk  into  oblivion,  and  carried  their  names 
down  with  them  ;  while  their  unacknowledged  offspring,  "Jack  5 
the  Giant  Killer,"  "  Giles  Gingerbread,"  and  "  Tom  Thumb," 
flourish  in  wide-spreading  and  never-ceasing  popularity. 

As  Goldsmith  had  now  acquired  popularity  and  an  exten- 
sive acquaintance,  he  attempted,  with  the  advice  of  his  friends, 
to  procure  a  more  regular  and  ample  support  by  resuming  10 
the  medical  profession.      He  accordingly  launched  himself 
upon  the  town  in  style  :  hired  a  man-servant ;  replenished  his 
wardrobe  at  considerable  expense,  and  appeared  in  a  pro- 
fessional wig  and  cane,  purple  silk  small-clothes,  and  a  scar- 
let roquelaure  buttoned  to  the  chin  :  a  fantastic  garb,  as  we  15 
should  think  at  the  present  day,  but  not  unsuited  to  the 
fashion  of  the  times. 

With  his  sturdy  little  person  thus  arrayed  in  the  unusual 
magnificence  of  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  his  scarlet  roque- 
laure flaunting  from  his  shoulders,  he  used  to  strut  into  the  20 
apartments  of  his  patients  swaying  his  three-cornered  hat  in 
one  hand  and  his  medical  sceptre,  the  cane,  in  the  other,  and 
assuming  an  air  of  gravity  and  importance  suited  to  the  solem- 
nity of  his  wig ;  at  least,  such  is  the  picture  given  of  him  by 
the  waiting  gentlewoman  who  let  him  into  the  chamber  of  25 
one  of  his  lady-patients. 

He  soon,  however,  grew  tired  and  impatient  of  the  duties 
and  restraints  of  his  profession ;  his  practice  was  chiefly 
among  his  friends,  and  the  fees  were  not  sufficient  for  his 
maintenance ;  he  was  disgusted  with  attendance  on  sick-  30 
chambers  and  capricious  patients,  and  looked  back  with 
longing  to  his  tavern-haunts  and  broad  convivial  meetings, 
from  which  the  dignity  and  duties  of  his  medical  calling 
restrained  him.  At  length,  on  prescribing  to  a  lady  of  his 


«50  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

acquaintance,  who,  to  use  a  hackneyed  phrase,  "rejoiced" 
in  the  aristocratical  name  of  Sidebotham,  a  warm  dispute 
arose  between  him  and  the  apothecary  as  to  the  quantity 
of  medicine  to  be  administered.  The  Doctor  stood  up  for 
5  the  rights  and  dignities  of  his  profession,  and  resented  the 
interference  of  the  compounder  of  drugs.  His  rights  and 
dignities,  however,  were  disregarded ;  his  wig  and  cane  and 
scarlet  roquelaure  were  of  "no  avail ;  Mrs.  Sidebotham  sided 
with  the  hero  of  the  pestle  and  mortar ;  and  Goldsmith  flung 

10  out  of  the  house  in  a  passion.  "  I  am  determined  hence- 
forth," said  he  to  Topham  Beauclerc,  "  to  leave  off  pre- 
scribing for  friends."  "  Do  so,  my  dear  Doctor,"  was  the 
reply ;  "  whenever  you  undertake  to  kill,  let  it  be  only  your 
enemies." 

15      This  was  the  end  of  Goldsmith's  medical  career. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1 .  Was  Sir  John  Hawkins  too  severe  in  calling  Goldsmith  an  "  idiot 
in  the  affairs  of  the  world  "  ? 

2.  Describe  Goldsmith  dressed  as  a  member  of  the  medical  profession. 
Tell  how  his  medical  career  ended.     Does  it  seem  unlikely  that  a  good 
physician  could  be  a  good  poet  ? 

3.   Discuss  the  value  of  nursery  tales  as  literature.     [This,  of  course, 
presupposes  an  attempt  to  define  literature.] 


CHAPTER   XVII 

Publication  of  the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield  " ;  Opinions  concerning  it :  Of  Dr.  John- 
son; Of  Rogers  the  Poet;  Of  Goethe;  Its  Merits;  Exquisite  Extract  — 
Attack  by  Kenrick — Reply — Book-Building — Project  of  a  Comedy. 

The  success  of  the  poem  of  "  The  Traveller,"  and  the  pop- 
ularity which  it  had  conferred  on  its  author,  now  roused  the 
attention  of  the  bookseller  in  whose  hands  the  novel  of  "The 
Vicar  of  Wakefield"  had  been  slumbering  for  nearly  two  long 
years.  The  idea  has  generally  prevailed  that  it  was  Mr.  John  5 
Newbery  to  whom  the  manuscript  had  been  sold,  and  much 
surprise  has  been  expressed  that  he  should  be  insensible  to 
its  merit  and  suffer  it  to  remain  unpublished,  while  putting 
forth  various  inferior  writings  by  the  same  author.  This, 
however,  is  a  mistake ;  it  was  his  nephew,  Francis  Newbery,  10 
who  had  become  the  fortunate  purchaser.  Still  the  delay  is 
equally  unaccountable.  Some  have  imagined  that  the  uncle 
and  nephew  had  business  arrangements  together,  in  which 
this  work  was  included,  and  that  the  elder  Newbery,  dubious 
of  its  success,  retarded  the  publication  until  the  full  harvest  15 
of  "  The  Traveller  "  should  be  reaped.  Booksellers  are  prone 
to  make  egregious  mistakes  as  to  the  merit  of  works  in  man- 
uscripts ;  and  to  undervalue,  if  not  reject,  those  of  classic 
and  enduring  excellence,  when  destitute  of  that  false  bril- 
liancy commonly  called  "  effect."  Tn  the  present  instance,  20 
an  intellect  vastly  superior  to  that  of  either  of  the  booksellers 
was  equally  at  fault.  Dr.  Johnson,  speaking  of  the  work  to 
Boswell,  some  time  subsequent  to  its  publication,  observed, 
"  I  myself  did  not  think  it  would  have  much  success.  It 
was  written  and  sold  to  a  bookseller  before  '  The  Traveller,'  25 
but  published  after,  so  little  expectation  had  the  bookseller 

'51 


152  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

from  it.  Had  it  been  sold  after  'The  Traveller,'  he  might 
have  had  twice  as  much  money;  though  sixty  guineas  was  no 
mean  price." 

Sixty  guineas  for  the  "Vicar  of  Wakefield " !  and  this 
5  could  be  pronounced  no  mean  price  by  Dr.  Johnson,  at  that 
time  the  arbiter  of  British  talent,  and  who  had  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  witnessing  the  effect  of  the  work  upon  the  public 
mind ;  for  its  success  was  immediate.  It  came  out  on  the 
2 yth  of  March,  1766  ;  before  the  end  of  May  a  second  edition 

10  was  called  for;  in  three  months  more,  a  third;  and  so  it 
went  on,  widening  in  a  popularity  that  has  never  flagged. 
Rogers,  the  Nestor  of  British  literature,  whose  refined  purity 
of  taste  and  exquisite  mental  organization  rendered  him  emi- 
nently calculated  to  appreciate  a  work  of  the  kind,  declared 

15  that  of  all  the  books  which  through  the  fitful  changes  of 
three  generations  he  had  seen  rise  and  fall,  the  charm  of  the 
"  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  had  alone  continued  as  at  first ;  and 
could  he  revisit  the  world  after  an  interval  of  many  more 
generations,  he  should  as  surely  look  to  find  it  undiminished. 

20  Nor  has  its  celebrity  been  confined  to  Great  Britain.  Though 
so  exclusively  a  picture  of  British  scenes  and  manners,  it  has 
been  translated  into  almost  every  language,  and  everywhere 
its  charm  has  been  the  same.  Goethe,  the  great  genius  of 
Germany,  declared  in  his  eighty-first  year,  that  it  was  his 

25  delight  at  the  age  of  twenty,  that  it  had  in  a  manner  formed 
a  part  of  his  education,  influencing  his  taste  and  feelings 
throughout  life,  and  that  he  had  recently  read  it  again  from 
beginning  to  end  —  with  renewed  delight,  and  with  a  grate- 
ful sense  of  the  early  benefit  derived  from  it. 

30  It  is  needless  to  expatiate  upon  the  qualities  of  a  work 
which  has  thus  passed  from  country  to  country,  and  lan- 
guage to  language,  until  it  is  now  known  throughout  the 
whole  reading  world  and  is  become  a  household  book  in 
every  hand.  The  secret  of  its  universal  and  enduring 


THE  VICAR   OF  WAKEFIELD  153 

popularity  is  undoubtedly  its  truth  to  nature,  but  to  nature  of 
the  most  amiable  kind,  to  nature  such  as  Goldsmith  saw  it. 
The  author,  as  we  have  occasionally  shown  in  the  course  of 
this  memoir,  took  his  scenes  and  characters  in  this,  as  in  his 
other  writings,  from  originals  in  his  own  motley  experience ;  5 
but  he  has  given  them  as  seen  through  the  medium  of  his 
own  indulgent  eye,  and  has  set  them  forth  with  the  colorings 
of  his  own  good  head  and  heart.  Yet  how  contradictory  it 
seems  that  this,  one  of  the  most  delightful  pictures  of  home 
and  homefelt  happiness  should  be  drawn  by  a  homeless  man  ;  10 
that  the  most  amiable  picture  of  domestic  virtue  and  all  the 
endearments  of  the  married  state  should  be  drawn  by  a 
bachelor,  who  had  been  severed  from  domestic  life  almost 
from  boyhood  ;  that  one  of  the  most  tender,  touching,  and 
affecting  appeals  on  behalf  of  female  loveliness  should  have  15 
been  made  by  a  man  whose  deficiency  in  all  the  graces  of 
person  and  manner  seemed  to  mark  him  out  for  a  cynical 
disparager  of  the  sex. 

We  cannot  refrain  from  transcribing  from  the  work  a  short 
passage  illustrative  of  what  we  have  said,  and  which  within  20 
a  wonderfully  small  compass  comprises  a  world  of  beauty  of 
imagery,  tenderness  of  feeling,  delicacy  and  refinement  of 
thought,  and  matchless  purity  of  style.  The  two  stanzas 
which  conclude  it,  in  which  are  told  a  whole  history  of 
woman's  wrongs  and  sufferings,  is,  for  pathos,  simplicity,  25 
and  euphony,  a  gem  in  the  language.  The  scene  depicted 
is  where  the  poor  Vicar  is  gathering  around  him  the  wrecks 
of  his  shattered  family,  and  endeavoring  to  rally  them  back 
to  happiness. 

"  The  next  morning  the  sun  arose  with  peculiar  warmth  30 
for  the  season,  so  that  we  agreed  to  breakfast  together  on 
the  honeysuckle  bank;  where,  while  we  sat,  my  youngest 
daughter  at  my  request  joined  her  voice  to  the  concert  on  the 
trees  about  us.     It  was  in  this  place  my  poor  Olivia  first  met 


154  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

her  seducer,  and  every  object  served  to  recall  her  sadness. 
But  that  melancholy  which  is  excited  by  objects  of  pleasure, 
or  inspired  by  sounds  of  harmony,  soothes  the  heart  instead 
of  corroding  it.  Her  mother,  too,  upon  this  occasion,  felt  a 

5  pleasing  distress,  and  wept  and  loved  her  daughter  as  before. 
'  Do,  my  pretty  Olivia,'  cried  she,  '  let  us  have  that  melan- 
choly air  your  father  was  so  fond  of  ;  your  sister  Sophy 
has  already  obliged  us.  Do,  child,  it  will  please  your  old 
father.'  She  complied  in  a  manner  so  exquisitely  pathetic 

10  as  moved  me. 

"  '  When  lovely  woman  stoops  to  folly, 

And  finds  too  late  that  men  betray,. 

What  charm  can  soothe  her  melancholy, 

What  art  can  wash  her  guilt  away  ? 

15  "  'The  only  art  her  guilt  to  cover, 

To  hide  her  shame  from  every  eye, 
To  give  repentance  to  her  lover, 
And  wring  his  bosom  —  is  to  die.'  " 

Scarce  had  the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  made  its  appearance 
20  and  been  received  with  acclamation,  than  its  author  was  sub- 
jected to  one  of  the  usual  penalties  that  attend  success.     He 
was  attacked  in  the  newspapers.     In  one  of  the  chapters 
he  had  introduced  his  ballad  of  "  The  Hermit,"  of  which,  as 
we  have  mentioned,  a  few  copies  had  been  printed  some 
25  considerable  time  previously  for  the  use  of  the  Countess  of 
Northumberland.     This  brought  forth  the  following  article 
in  a  fashionable  journal  of  the  day. 

"  To  the  Printer  of  the  '  St.  James's  Chronicle? 

"SiR,  —  In  the  'Reliques  of  Ancient  Poetry,'  published 

30  about  two  years  ago,  is  a  very  beautiful  little  ballad,  called 

'  A  Friar  of  Orders  Gray.'     The  ingenious  editor,  Mr.  Percy, 

supposes  that  the  stanzas  sung  by  Ophelia  in.  the  play  of 


NEWSPAPER  ATTACK  155 

'  Hamlet '  were  parts  of  some  ballad  well  known  in  Shaks- 
peare's  time,  and  from  these  stanzas,  with  the  addition  of 
one  or  two  of  his  own  to  connect  them,  he  has  formed  the 
above-mentioned  ballad  ;  the  subject  of  which  is,  a  lady 
comes  to  a  convent  to  inquire  for  her  love  who  had  been  5 
driven  there  by  her  disdain.  She  is  answered  by  a  friar 
that  he  is  dead :  — 

" '  No,  no,  he  is  dead,  gone  to  his  death's  bed. 
He  never  will  come  again.' 

The  lady  weeps  and  laments  her  cruelty  ;  the  friar  endeavors  10 
to  comfort  her  with  morality  and  religion,  but  all  in  vain; 
she  expresses  the  deepest  grief  and  the  most  tender  senti- 
ments of  love,  till  at  last  the  friar  discovers  himself :  — 

" '  And  lo  !  beneath  this  gown  of  gray 

Thy  own  true  love  appears.'  15 

"  This  catastrophe  is  very  fine,  and  the  whole,  joined  with 
the  greatest  tenderness,  has  the  greatest  simplicity ;  yet, 
though  this  ballad  was  so  recently  published  in  the  'Ancient 
Reliques,'  Dr.  Goldsmith  has  been  hardy  enough  to  publish 
a  poem  called  'The  Hermit,'  where  the  circumstances  and  20 
catastrophe  are  exactly  the  same,  only  with  this  difference, 
that  the  natural  simplicity  and  tenderness  of  the  original  are 
almost  entirely  lost  in  the  languid  smoothness  and  tedious 
paraphrase  of  the  copy,  which  is  as  short  of  the  merits  of 
Mr.  Percy's  ballad  as  the  insipidity  of  negus  is  to  the  genuine  25 

flavor  of  champagne. 

"  I  am,  sir,  yours,  &c., 

"  DETECTOR." 

This  attack,  supposed  to  be  by  Goldsmith's  constant  per- 
secutor, the  malignant  Kenrick,  drew  from  him  the  following  30 
note  to  the  editor :  — 


.  156  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

"  SIR,  —  As  there  is  nothing  I  dislike  so  much  as  news- 
paper controversy,  particularly  upon  trifles,  permit  me  to  be 
as  concise  as  possible  in  informing  a  correspondent  of  yours 
that  I  recommended  '  Blainville's  Travels  '  because  I  thought 
5  the  book  was  a  good  one ;  and  I  think  so  still.  I  said  I  was 
told  by  the  bookseller  that  it  was  then  first  published ;  but 
in  that  it  seems  I  was  misinformed,  and  my  reading  was  not 
extensive  enough  to  set  me  right. 

"Another  correspondent  of  yours  accuses  me  of  having 

10  taken  a  ballad  I  published  some  time  ago,  from  one  by 
the  ingenious  Mr.  Percy.  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  great 
resemblance  between  the  two  pieces  in  question.  If  there 
be  any,  his  ballad  was  taken  from  mine.  I  read  it  to  Mr. 
Percy  some  years  ago ;  and  he,  as  we  both  considered  these 

1 5  things  as  trifles  at  best,  told  me,  with  his  usual  good-humor, 
the  next  time  I  saw  him,  that  he  had  taken  my  plan  to  form 
the  fragments  of  Shakspeare  into  a  ballad  of  his  own.  He 
then  read  me  his  little  Cento,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  and  I  highly 
approved  it.  Such  petty  anecdotes  as  these  are  scarcely 

20  worth  printing  ;  and,  were  it  not  for  the  busy  disposition  of 
some  of  your  correspondents,  the  public  should  never  have 
known  that  he  owes  me  the  hint  of  his  ballad,  or  that  I  am 
obliged  to  his  friendship  and  learning  for  communications  of 
a  much  more  important  nature. 

25  "  I  am,  sir,  yours,  &c., 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

The  unexpected  circulation  of  the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield  " 
enriched  the  publisher,  but  not  the  author.  Goldsmith  no 
doubt  thought  himself  entitled  to  participate  in  the  profits 
30  of  the  repeated  editions ;  and  a  memorandum,  still  extant, 
shows  that  he  drew  upon  Mr.  Francis  Newbery,  in  the 
month  of  June,  for  fifteen  guineas,  but  that  the  bill  was- 
returned  dishonored.  He  continued,  therefore,  his  usual 


SENTIMENTAL  COMEDY  157 

job-work  for  the  booksellers,  writing  introductions,  prefaces, 
and  head-  and  tail-pieces  for  new  works ;  revising,  touching 
up,  and  modifying  travels  and  voyages  ;  making  compilations 
of  prose  and  poetry,  and  "  building  books,"  as  he  sportively 
termed  it.  These  tasks  required  little  labor  or  talent,  but  5 
that  taste  and  touch  which  are  the  magic  of  gifted  minds. 
His  terms  began  to  be  proportioned  to  his  celebrity.  If  his 
price  was  at  any  time  objected  to,  "Why,  sir,"  he  would 
say,  "  it  may  seem  large ;  but  then  a  man  may  be  many 
years  working  in  obscurity  before  his  taste  and  reputation  10 
are  fixed  or  estimated ;  and  then  he  is,  as  in  other  profes- 
sions, only  paid  for  his  previous  labors." 

He  was,  however,  prepared  to  try  his  fortune  in  a  different 
walk  of  literature  from  any  he  had  yet  attempted.  We  have 
repeatedly  adverted  to  his  fondness  for  the  drama;  he  was  15 
a  frequent  attendant  at  the  theatres ;  though,  as  we  have 
shown,  he  considered  them  under  gross  mismanagement. 
He  thought,  too,  that  a  vicious  taste  prevailed  among  those 
who  wrote  for  the  stage.  "  A  new  species  of  dramatic  com- 
position," says  he,  in  one  of  his  essays,  "has  been  intro-  20 
duced  under  the  name  of  sentimental  comedy,  in  which  the 
virtues  of  private  life  are  exhibited  rather  than  the  vices 
exposed ;  and  the  distresses  rather  than  the  faults  of  man- 
kind make  our  interest  in  the  piece.  In  these  plays  almost 
all  the  characters  are  good,  and  exceedingly  generous  ;  they  25 
are  lavish  enough  of  their  tin  money  on  the  stage ;  and 
though  they  want  humor,  have  abundance  of  sentiment  and 
feeling.  If  they  happen  to  have  faults  or  foibles,  the  spec- 
tator is  taught  not  only  to  pardon,  but  to  applaud  them  in 
consideration  of  the  goodness  of  their  hearts ;  so  that  folly,  30 
instead  of  being  ridiculed,  is  commended,  and  the  comedy 
aims  at  touching  our  passions,  without  the  power  of  being 
truly  pathetic.  In  this  manner  we  are  likely  to  lose  one 
great  source  of  entertainment  on  the  stage  ;  for  while  the 


158  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

comic  poet  is  invading  the  province  of  the  tragic  muse,  he 
leaves  her  lively  sister  quite  neglected.  Of  this,  however, 
he  is  no  ways  solicitous,  as  he  measures  his  fame  by  his 

profits 

5  "  Humor  at  present  seems  to  be  departing  from  the  stage ; 
and  it  will  soon  happen  that  our  comic  players  will  have 
nothing  left  for  it  but  a  fine  coat  and  a  song.  It  depends 
upon  the  audience  whether  they  will  actually  drive  those  poor 
merry  creatures  from  the  stage,  or  sit  at  a  play  as  gloomy  as 

10  at  the  tabernacle.  It  is  not  easy  to  recover  an  art  when  once 
lost;  and  it  will  be  a  just  punishment,  that  when,  by  our  being 
too  fastidious,  we  have  banished  humor  from  the  stage,  we 
should  ourselves  be  deprived  of  the  art  of  laughing." 

Symptoms  of  reform   in  the  drama  had  recently  taken 

15  place.  The  comedy  of  the  "Clandestine  Marriage,"  the 
joint  production  of  Colman  and  Garrick,  and  suggested  by 
Hogarth's  inimitable  pictures  of  Marriage  d  la  mode,  had 
taken  the  town  by  storm,  crowded  the  theatre  with  fashion- 
able audiences,  and  formed  one  of  the  leading  literary  topics 

20  of  the  year.  Goldsmith's  emulation  was  roused  by  its  suc- 
cess. The  comedy  was  in  what  he  considered  the  legitimate 
line,  totally  different  from  the  sentimental  school ;  it  pre- 
sented pictures  of  real  life,  delineations  of  character  and 
touches  of  humor,  in  which  he  felt  himself  calculated  to 

25  excel.  The  consequence  was,  that  in  the  course  of  this 
year  (1766)  he  commenced  a  comedy  of  the  same  class,  to 
be  entitled  the  "  Good-Natured  Man,"  at  which  he  diligently 
wrought  whenever  the  hurried  occupation  of  "  book-build- 
ing" allowed  him  leisure. 


TOPICS  AND   QUESTIONS  159 

TOPICS    AND    QUESTIONS 

1.  How  do  you  account  for  the  fact  that  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  " 
was  translated  into  "  almost  every  language  "  ? 

2.  What  do  you  find  that  is  commendable  in  Goldsmith's  letter  to 
the   editor  of   the   St.  James's   Chronicle  ?     Explain  why  the  "  forms 
of  closing  "  of  most  letters  nowadays  differ  from  the  usual  endings  of 
Goldsmith's  letters. 

3.  Would  sixty  guineas  in  our  day  be  considered  good  pay  for  a 
novel  reaching  three  editions  in  a  few  months? 

4.  Discuss  Goldsmith's  ideas  on  the  drama. 

5.  Have  any  "  egregious  mistakes "  regarding  the  value  of  manu- 
scripts been  made  of  recent  years  by  American  publishers  ? 

6.  "  Humor  at  present  seems  to  be  departing  from  the  stage."     Is 
this  true  now? 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

Social  Position  of  Goldsmith;  His  Colloquial  Contests  with  Johnson  — 
Anecdotes  and  Illustrations. 

The  social  position  of  Goldsmith  had  undergone  a  material 
change  since  the  publication  of  "The  Traveller."  Before 
that  event  he  was  but  partially  known  as  the  author  of  some 
clever  anonymous  writings,  and  had  been  a  tolerated  mem- 
5  ber  of  the  club  and  the  Johnson  circle,  without  much  being 
expected  from  him.  Now  he  had  suddenly  risen  to  literary 
fame,  and  become  one  of  the  lions  of  the  day.  The  highest 
regions  of  intellectual  society  were  now  open  to  him  ;  but  he 
was  not  prepared  to  move  in  them  with  confidence  and  suc- 

10  cess.  Ballymahon  had  not  been  a  good  school  of  manners 
at  the  outset  of  life ;  nor  had  his  experience  as  a  "  poor 
student "  at  colleges  and  medical  schools  contributed  to  give 
him  the  polish  of  society.  He  had  brought  from  Ireland, 
as  he  said,  nothing  but  his  "  brogue  and  his  blunders,"  and 

15  they  had  never  left  him.  He  had  travelled,  it  is  true;  but 
the  Continental  tour  which  in  those  days  gave  the  finishing 
grace  to  the  education  of  a  patrician  youth,  had,  with  poor 
Goldsmith,  been  little  better  than  a  course  of  literary  vaga- 
bondizing. It  had  enriched  his  mind,  deepened  and  widened 

20  the  benevolence  of  his  heart,  and  filled  his  memory  with 
enchanting  pictures,  but  it  had  contributed  little  to  disci- 
plining him  for  the  polite  intercourse  of  the  world.  His  life 
in  London  had  hitherto  been  a  struggle  with  sordid  cares 
and  sad  humiliations.  "  You  scarcely  can  conceive,"  wrote 

25  he  some  time  previously  to  his  brother,  "  how  much  eight 
years  of  disappointment,  anguish,  and  study  have  worn  me 

160 


SOCIAL   POSITION   OF  GOLDSMITH  161 

down."  Several  more  years  had  since  been  added  to  the 
term  during  which  he  had  trod  the  lowly  walks  of  life.  He 
had  been  a  tutor,  an  apothecary's  drudge,  a  petty  physician 
of  the  suburbs,  a  bookseller's  hack,  drudging  for  daily  bread. 
Each  separate  walk  had  been  beset  by  its  peculiar  thorns  5 
and  humiliations.  It  is  wonderful  how  his  heart  retained 
its  gentleness  and  kindness  through  all  these  trials ;  how 
his  mind  rose  above  the  "  meannesses  of  poverty,"  to  which, 
as  he  says,  he  was  compelled  to  submit ;  but  it  would  be 
still  more  wonderful,  had  his  manners  acquired  a  tone  corre-  10 
spending  to  the  innate  grace  and  refinement  of  his  intellect. 
He  was  near  forty  years  of  age  when  he  published  "The 
Traveller,"  and  was  lifted  by  it  into  celebrity.  As  is  beauti- 
fully said  of  him  by  one  of  his  biographers,  "  he  has  fought 
his  way  to  consideration  and  esteem;  but  he  bears  upon  15 
him  the  scars  of  his  twelve  years'  conflict ;  of  the  mean 
sorrows  through  which  he  has  passed ;  and  of  the  cheap 
indulgences  he  has  sought  relief  and  help  from.  There  is 
nothing  plastic  in  his  nature  now.  His  manners  and  habits 
are  completely  formed  ;  and  in  them  any  further  success  can  20 
make  little  favorable  change,  whatever  it  may  effect  for  his 
mind  or  genius."  1 

We  are  not  to  be  surprised,  therefore,  at  finding  him  make 
an  awkard  figure  in  the  elegant  drawing-rooms  which  were 
now  open  to  him,  and  disappointing  those  who  had  formed  25 
an  idea  of  him  from  the  fascinating  ease  and  gracefulness  of 
his  poetry. 

Even  the  literary  club,  and  the  circle  of  which  it  formed 
a  part,  after  their  surprise  at  the  intellectual  flights  of  which 
he  showed  himself  capable,  fell  into  a  conventional  mode  of  30 
judging  and  talking  of  him,  and  of  placing  him  in  absurd 
and  whimsical  points  of  view.  His  very  celebrity  operated 
here  to  his  disadvantage.  It  brought  him  into  continual 
i  Forster's  "  Goldsmith." 


162  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

comparison  with  Johnson,  who  was  the  oracle  of  that  circle 
and  had  given  it  a  tone.  Conversation  was  the  great  staple 
there,  and  of  this  Johnson  was  a  master.  He  had  been  a 
reader  and  thinker  from  childhood:  his  melancholy  temper- 
S  ament,  which  unfitted  him  for  the  pleasures  of  youth,  had 
made  him  so.  For  many  years  past  the  vast  variety  of  works 
he  had  been  obliged  to  consult  in  preparing  his  Dictionary, 
had  stored  an  uncommonly  retentive  memory  with  facts  on 
all  kinds  of  subjects ;  making  it  a  perfect  colloquial  armory. 

10  "  He  had  all  his  life,"  says  Boswell,  "  habituated  himself  to 
consider  conversation  as  a  trial  of  intellectual  vigor  and  skill. 
He  had  disciplined  himself  as  a  talker  as  well  as  a  writer, 
making  it  a  rule  to  impart  whatever  he  knew  in  the  most 
forcible  language  he  could  put  it  in,  so  that  by  constant  prac- 

15  tice  and  never  suffering  any  careless  expression  to  escape 
him,  he  had  attained  an  extraordinary  accuracy  and  command 
of  language." 

His  conversation  in  all  companies,  according  to  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  was  such  as  to  secure  him  universal  attention,  some- 

20  thing  above  the  usual  colloquial  style  being  always  expected 
from  him. 

"  I  do  not  care,"  said  Orme,  the  historian  of  Hindostan, 
"  on  what  subject  Johnson  talks ;  but  I  love  better  to  hear 
him  talk  than  anybody.  He  either  gives  you  new  thoughts 

25  or  a  new  coloring." 

A  stronger  and  more  graphic  eulogium  is  given  by  Dr. 
Percy.  "  The  conversation  of  Johnson,"  says  he,  "  is  strong 
and  clear,  and  may  be  compared  to  an  antique  statue,  where 
every  vein  and  muscle  is  distinct  and  clear." 

30  Such  was  the  colloquial  giant  with  which  Goldsmith's 
celebrity  and  his  habits  of  intimacy  brought  him  into  con- 
tinual comparison ;  can  we  wonder  that  he  should  appear 
to  disadvantage  ?  Conversation  grave,  discursive,  and  dis- 
putatious, such  as  Johnson  excelled  and  delighted  in,  was  to 


GOLDSMITH'S   CONVERSATION  163 

him  a  severe  task,  and  he  never  was  good  at  a  task  of  any 
kind.  He  had  not,  like  Johnson,  a  vast  fund  of  acquired 
facts  to  draw  upon ;  nor  a  retentive  memory  to  furnish  them 
forth  when  wanted.  He  could  not,  like  the  great  lexicogra- 
pher, mould  his  ideas  and  balance  his  periods  while  talking.  5 
He  had  a  flow  of  ideas,  but  it  was  apt  to  be  hurried  and 
confused ;  and,  as  he  said  of  himself,  he  had  contracted  a 
hesitating  and  disagreeable  manner  of  speaking.  He  used 
to  say  that  he  always  argued  best  when  he  argued  alone ; 
that  is  to  say,  he  could  master  a  subject  in  his  study,  with  10 
his  pen  in  his  hand;  but  when  he  came  into  company  he 
grew  confused,  and  was  unable'  to  talk  about  it.  Johnson 
made  a  remark  concerning  him  to  somewhat  of  the  same 
purport.  "  No  man,"  said  he,  "  is  more  foolish  than  Gold- 
smith when  he  has  not  a  pen  in  his  hand,  or  more  wise  15 
when  he  has."  Yet  with  all  this  conscious  deficiency  he 
was  continually  getting  involved  in  colloquial  contests  with 
Johnson  and  other  prime  talkers  of  the  literary  circle.  He 
felt  that  he  had  become  a  notoriety,  that  he  had  entered  the 
lists  and  was  expected  to  make  fight ;  so  with  that  heedless-  20 
ness  which  characterized  him  in  everything  else  he  dashed 
on  at  a  venture,  trusting  to  chance  in  this  as  in  other  things, 
and  hoping  occasionally  to  make  a  lucky  hit.  Johnson  per- 
ceived his  hap-hazard  temerity,  but  gave  him  no  credit  for 
the  real  diffidence  which  lay  at  bottom.  "  The  misfortune  25 
of  Goldsmith  in  conversation,"  said  he,  "  is  this,  he  goes  on 
without  knowing  how  he  is  to  get  off.  His  genius  is  great, 
but  his  knowledge  is  small.  As  they  say  of  a  generous  man 
it  is  a  pity  he  is  not  rich,  we  may  say  of  Goldsmith  it  is 
a  pity  he  is  not  knowing.  He  would  not  keep  his  knowl-  30 
edge  to  himself."  And,  on  another  occasion,  he  observes : 
"Goldsmith,  rather  than  not  talk,  will  talk  of  what  he  knows 
himself  to  be  ignorant,  which  can  only  end  in  exposing  him. 
If  in  company  with  two  founders,  he  would  fall  a-talking  on 


164  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

the  method  of  making  cannon,  though  both  of  them  would 
soon  see  that  he  did  not  know  what  metal  a  cannon  is 
made  of."  And  again:  "Goldsmith  should  not  be  forever 
attempting  to  shine  in  conversation ;  he  has  not  temper 
5  for  it,  he  is  so  much  mortified  when  he  fails.  Sir,  a  ^ame 
of  jokes  is  composed  partly  of  skill,  partly  of  chance ;  a 
man  may  be  beat  at  times  by  one  who  has  not  the  tenth 
part  of  his  wit.  Now  Goldsmith,  putting  himself  against 
another,  is  like  a  man  laying  a  hundred  to  one,  who  can- 

10  not  spare  the  hundred.  It  is  not  worth  a  man's  while. 
A  man  should  not  lay  a  hundred  to  one  unless  he  can 
easily  spare  it,  though  he  has  a  hundred  chances  for 
him ;  he  can  get  but  a  guinea,  and  he  may  lose  a  hundred. 
Goldsmith  is  in  this  state.  When  he  contends,  if  he 

15  gets  the  better,  it  is  a  very  little  addition  to  a  man  of 
his  literary  reputation;  if  he  does  not  get  the  better,  he 
is  miserably  vexed." 

Johnson  was  not  aware  how  much  he  was  himself  to  blame 
in  producing  this  vexation.     "  Goldsmith,"  said  Miss  Reyn- 

20  olds,  "  always  appeared  to  be  overawed  by  Johnson,  par- 
ticularly when  in  company  with  people  of  any  consequence ; 
always  as  if  impressed  with  fear  of  disgrace ;  and  indeed 
well  he  might.  I  have  been  witness  to  many  mortifications 
he  has  suffered  in  Dr.  Johnson's  company." 

25  It  may  not  have  been  disgrace  that  he  feared,  but  rude- 
ness. The  great  lexicographer,  spoiled  by  the  homage  of 
society,  was  still  more  prone  than  himself  to  lose  temper 
when  the  argument  went  against  him.  He  could  not  brook 
appearing  to  he  worsted,  but  would  attempt  to  bear  down 

30  his  adversary  by  the  rolling  thunder  of  his  periods,  and, 
when  that  failed,  would  become  downright  insulting.  Bos- 
well  called  it  "  having  recourse  to  some  sudden  mode  of 
robust  sophistry";  but  Goldsmith  designated  it  much  more 
happily.  "  There  is  no  arguing  with  Johnson,"  said  he, 


FABLE    OF   THE   LITTLE    FISHES  165 

"for,  when  his  pistol  misses  fire,  he  knocks  you  down  with  the 
but- end  of  it"  l 

In  several  of  the  intellectual  collisions  recorded  by  Boswell 
as  triumphs  of  Dr.  Johnson  it  really  appears  to  us  that  Gold- 
smith had  the  best  both  of  the  wit  and  the  argument,  and    5 
especially  of  the  courtesy  and  good-nature. 

On  one  occasion  he  certainly  gave  Johnson  a  capital 
reproof  as  to  his  own  colloquial  peculiarities.  Talking  of 
fables,  Goldsmith  observed  that  the  animals  introduced  in 
them  seldom  talked  in  character.  "  For  instance,"  said  he,  10 
"  the  fable  of  the  little  fishes,  who  saw  birds  fly  over  their 
heads,  and,  envying  them,  petitioned  Jupiter  to  be  changed 
into  birds.  The  skill  consists  in  making  them  talk  like  little 
fishes."  Just  then  observing  that  Dr.  Johnson  was  shaking 
his  sides  and  laughing,  he  immediately  added,  "Why,  Dr.  15 
Johnson,  this  is  not  so  easy  as  you  seem  to  think  ;  for,  if  you 
were  to  make  little  fishes  talk,  they  would  talk  like  whales." 

But  though  Goldsmith  suffered  frequent  mortifications  in 
society  from  the  overbearing,  and  sometimes  harsh,  conduct 
of  Johnson,  he  always  did  justice  to  his  benevolence.    When  20 
royal  pensions  were  granted  to  Dr.  Johnson  and  Dr.  Sheb- 
beare,  a  punster  remarked,  that  the  king  had  pensioned  a 
she-bear  and  a  he-bear ;  to  which  Goldsmith  replied,  "Johnson, 
to  be  sure,  has  a  roughness  in  his  manner,  but  no  man  alive 
has  a  more  tender  heart.     He  has  nothing  of  the  bear  but  25 
the  skin" 

Goldsmith,  in  conversation,  shone  most  when  he  least 
thought  of  shining;  when  he  gave  up  all  effort  to  appear 
wise  and  learned,  or  to  cope  with  the  oracular  sententious- 
ness  of  Johnson,  and  gave  way  to  his  natural  impulses.  30 

1  The  following  is  given  by  Boswell,  as  an  instance  of  robust  sophistry :  — 
"  Once,  when  I  was  pressing  upon  him  with  visible  advantage,  he  stopped  me 
thus  —  'My  dear  Boswell,  let 's  have  no  more  of  this ;  you  '11  make  nothing  of  it ; 
I  'd  rather  hear  you  whistle  a  Scotch  tune.'  " 


166  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

Even  Boswell  could  perceive  his  merits  on  these  occasions. 
"  For  my  part,"  said  he,  condescendingly,  "  I  like  very  well 
to  hear  honest  Goldsmith  talk  away  carelessly  " ;  and  many 
a  much  wiser  man  than  Boswell  delighted  in  those  outpour- 
5  ings  of  a  fertile  fancy  and  a  generous  heart.  In  his  happy 
moods,  Goldsmith  had  an  artless  simplicity  and  buoyant 
good-humor,  that  led  to  a  thousand  amusing  blunders  and 
whimsical  confessions,  much  to  the  entertainment  of  his 
intimates ;  yet  in  his  most  thoughtless  garrulity  there  was 
10  occasionally  the  gleam  of  the  gold  and  the  flash  of  the 
diamond. 

TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Make  an  outline  for  the  life  of  Goldsmith  from  1728  to  1767 
under  main  headings  suggested  by  Irving's  statements  in  the  first  para- 
graph of  this  chapter. 

2.  Compare  Goldsmith  and  Johnson  as  conversationalists. 

3.  What  is  to  be  gained  in  the  art  of  conversation  by  never  allowing 
a  "  careless  "  expression  to  escape  one  ? 

4.  From  what  does  it  plainly  appear  that  Irving  admires  the  subject 
of  his  biography  ?     Do  you  share  in  the  admiration  ?     Why  ?     Would 
Irving's  admiration  be  likely  to  make  his  statements  about  the  life  of 
Goldsmith  unreliable  ? 

5.  Discuss  Goldsmith  in  society.     (Chapters  XVIII  and  XIX.) 

6.  Why  should  the  literary  club  get  into  the  habit  of  placing  Gold- 
smith in  an  absurd  light  ? 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Social  Resorts  — The  Shilling  Whist-Club  — A  Practical  Joke  — The  Wednes- 
day Club—  The  "  Tun  of  Man  "  —  The  Pig-Butcher—  Tom  King—  Hugh 
Kelly  —  Glover  and  his  Characteristics. 

Though  Goldsmith's  pride  and  ambition  led  him  to  mingle 
occasionally  with  high  society,  and  to  engage  in  the  collo- 
quial conflicts  of  the  learned  circle,  in  both  of  which  he  was 
ill  at  ease  and  conscious  of  being  undervalued,  yet  he  had 
some  social  resorts  in  which  he  indemnified  himself  for  their  5 
restraints  by  indulging  his  humor  without  control.  One  of 
them  was  a  shilling  whist-club,  which  held  its  meetings  at 
the  Devil  Tavern,  near  Temple  Bar,  a  place  rendered  classic, 
we  are  told,  by  a  club  held  there  in  old  times,  to  which  "  rare 
Ben  Jonson  "  had  furnished  the  rules.  The  company  was  10 
of  a  familiar,  unceremonious  kind,  delighting  in  that  very 
questionable  wit  which  consists  in  playing  off  practical  jokes 
upon  each  other.  Of  one  of  these  Goldsmith  was  made  the 
butt.  Coming  to  the  club  one  night  in  a  hackney-coach,  he 
gave  the  coachman  by  mistake  a  guinea  instead  of  a  shilling,  15 
which  he  set  down  as  a  dead  loss,  for  there  was  no  likeli- 
hood, he  said,  that  a  fellow  of  this  class  would  have  the 
honesty  to  return  the  money.  On  the  next  club-evening  he 
was  told  a  person  at  the  street-door  wished  to  speak  with 
him.  He  went  forth,  but  soon  returned  with  a  radiant  20 
countenance.  To  his  surprise  and  delight  the  coachman 
had  actually  brought  back  the  guinea.  While  he  launched 
forth  in  praise  of  this  unlooked-for  piece  of  honesty,  he 
declared  it  ought  not  to  go  unrewarded.  Collecting  a  small 
sum  from  the  club,  and  no  doubt  increasing  it  largely  from  25 
his  own  purse,  he  dismissed  the  Jehu  with  many  encomiums 

167 


168  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

on  his  good  conduct.  He  was  still  chanting  his  praises, 
when  one  of  the  club  requested  a  sight  of  the  guinea  thus 
honestly  returned.  To  Goldsmith's  confusion  it  proved  to 
be  a  counterfeit.  The  universal  burst  of  laughter  which 
5  succeeded,  and  the  jokes  by  which  he  was  assailed  on  every 
side,  showed  him  that  the  whole  was  a  hoax,  and  the  pre- 
tended coachman  as  much  a  counterfeit  as  the  guinea.  He 
was  so  disconcerted,  it  is  said,  that  he  soon  beat  a  retreat 
for  the  evening. 

10  Another  of  those  free  and  easy  clubs  met  on  Wednesday 
evenings  at  the  Globe  Tavern  in  Fleet  Street.  It  was  some- 
what in  the  style  of  the  Three  Jolly  Pigeons  :  songs,  jokes, 
dramatic  imitations,  burlesque  parodies,  and  "broad  sallies 
of  humor,  formed  a  contrast  to  the  sententious  morality, 

15  pedantic  casuistry,  and  polished  sarcasm  of  the  learned 
circle.  Here  a  huge  "  tun  of  man,"  by  the  name  of  Gordon, 
used  to  delight  Goldsmith  by  singing  the  jovial  song  of  Not- 
tingham Ale,  and  looking  like  a  butt  of  it.  Here,  too,  a 
wealthy  pig-butcher,  charmed,  no  doubt,  by  the  mild  phi- 

20  lanthropy  of  "The  Traveller,"  aspired  to  be  on  the  most 
sociable  footing  with  the  author ;  and  here  was  Tom  King, 
the  comedian,  recently  risen  to  consequence  by  his  perform- 
ance of  Lord  Ogleby  in  the  new  comedy  of  "  The  Clandestine 
Marriage." 

25  A  member  of  more  note  was  one  Hugh  Kelly,  a  second- 
rate  author,  who,  as  he  became  a  kind  of  competitor  of 
Goldsmith's,  deserves  particular  mention.  He  was  an  Irish- 
man, about  twenty-eight  years  of  age,  originally  apprenticed 
to  a  staymaker  in  Dublin  ;  then  writer  to  a  London  attorney ; 

30  then  a  Grub-Street  hack  ;  scribbling  for  magazines  and  news- 
papers. Of  late  he  had  set  up  for  theatrical  censor  and 
satirist,  and  in  a  paper  called  "Thespis,"  in  emulation  of 
Churchill's  "  Rosciad,"  had  harassed  many  of  the  poor  actors 
without  mercy,  and  often  without  wit ;  but  had  lavished  his 


HUGH   KELLY  — GLOVER  169 

incense  on  Garrick,  who,  in  consequence,  took  him  into 
favor.  He  was  the  author  of  several  works  of  superficial 
merit,  but  which  had  sufficient  vogue  to  inflate  his  vanity. 
This,  however,  must  have  been  mortified  on  his  first  intro- 
duction to  Johnson ;  after  sitting  a  short  time  he  got  up  to  5 
take  leave,  expressing  a  fear  that  a  longer  visit  might  be 
troublesome.  "  Not  in  the  least,  sir,"  said  the  surly  moralist, 
"  I  had  forgotten  you  were  in  the  room."  Johnson  used 
to  speak  of  him  as  a  man  who  had  written  more  than  he 
had  read.  10 

A  prime  wag  of  this  club  was  one  of  Goldsmith's  poor 
countrymen  and  hangers-on,  by  the  name  of  Glover.  He 
had  originally  been  educated  for  the  medical  profession,  but 
had  taken  in  early  life  to  the  stage,  though  apparently  with- 
out much  success.  While  performing  at  Cork,  he  undertook,  15 
partly  in  jest,  to  restore  life  to  the  body  of  a  malefactor, 
who  had  just  been  executed.  To  the  astonishment  of  every 
one,  himself  among  the  number,  he  succeeded.  The  miracle 
took  wind.  He  abandoned  the  stage,  resumed  the  wig  and 
cane,  and  considered  his  fortune  as  secure.  Unluckily,  there  20 
were  not  many  dead  people  to  be  restored  to  life  in  Ireland ; 
his  practice  did  not  equal  his  expectation,  so  he  came  to 
London,  where  he  continued  to  dabble  indifferently,  and 
rather  unprofitably,  in  physic  and  literature. 

He  was  a  great  frequenter  of  the  Globe  and  Devil  taverns,  25 
where  he  used  to  amuse  the  company  by  his  talent  at  story- 
telling and  his  powers  of  mimicry,  giving  capital  imitations 
of  Garrick,  Foote,  Colman,  Sterne,  and  other  public  char- 
acters of  the  day.     He  seldom  happened  to  have  money 
enough  to  pay  his  reckoning,  but  was  always  sure  to  find  30 
some  ready  purse  among  those  who  had  been  amused  by  his 
humors.     Goldsmith,  of  course,  was  one  of  the  readiest.     It 
was  through  him  that  Glover  was  admitted  to  the  Wednesday 
Club,  of  which  his  theatrical  imitations  became  the  delight. 


170  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

Glover,  however,  was  a  little  anxious  for  the  dignity  of  his 
patron,  which  appeared  to  him  to  suffer  from  the  over- 
familiarity  of  some  of  the  members  of  the  club.  He  was 
especially  shocked  by  the  free  and  easy  tone  in  which  Gold- 
5  smith  was  addressed  by  the  pig-butcher.  "  Come,  Noll," 
would  he  say,  as  he  pledged  him,  "  here  's  my  service  to 
you,  old  boy  !  " 

Glover  whispered  to  Goldsmith,  that  he  "  should  not  allow 
such  liberties."     "  Let  him  alone,"  was  the  reply,  "  you  '11 

10  see  how  civilly  I  '11  let  him  down."  After  a  time,  he  called 
out,  with  marked  ceremony  and  politeness,  "  Mr.  B.,  I  have 
the  honor  of  drinking  your  good  health."  Alas!  dignity 
was  not  poor  Goldsmith's  forte :  he  could  keep  no  one  at 
a  distance.  "  Thank'ee,  thank'ee,  Noll,"  nodded  the  pig- 

15  butcher,  scarce  taking  the  pipe  out  of  his  mouth.  "  I  don't 
see  the  effect  of  your  reproof,"  whispered  Glover.  "  I  give 
it  up,"  replied  Goldsmith,  with  a  good-humored  shrug ;  "  I 
ought  to  have  known  before  now  there  is  no  putting  a  pig 
in  the  right  way." 

20  Johnson  used  to  be  severe  upon  Goldsmith  for  mingling 
in  these  motley  circles,  observing,  that,  having  been  originally 
poor,  he  had  contracted  a  love  for  low  company.  Goldsmith, 
however,  was  guided  not  by  a  taste  for  what  was  low,  but 
for  what  was  comic  and  characteristic.  It  was  the  feeling 

25  of  the  artist ;  the  feeling  which  furnished  out  some  of  his 
best  scenes  in  familiar  life ;  the  feeling  with  which  "  rare 
Ben  Jonson  "  sought  these  very  haunts  and  circles  in  days 
of  yore,  to  study  "  Every  Man  in  his  Humor." 

It  was  not  always,  however,  that  the  humor  of  these  asso- 

30  ciates  was  to  his  taste  :  as  they  became  boisterous  in  their 
merriment,  he  was  apt  to  become  depressed.  "The  com- 
pany of  fools,"  says  he,  in  one  of  his  essays,  "  may  at  first 
make  us  smile,  but  at  last  never  fails  of  making  us  melan- 
choly." «'  Often  he  would  become  moody,"  says  Glover, 


THE  WEDNESDAY  CLUB  I/I 

"  and  would  leave  the  party  abruptly  to  go  home  and  brood 
over  his  misfortune." 

It  is  possible,  however,  that  he  went  home  for  quite  a 
different  purpose  :  to  commit  to  paper  some  scene  or  pas- 
sage suggested  for  his  comedy  of  "  The  Good-natured  Man."    5 
The  elaboration  of  humor  is  often  a  most  serious  task ;  and 
we  have  never  witnessed  a  more  perfect  picture  of  mental 
misery  than  was  once  presented  to  us  by  a  popular  dramatic 
writer  —  still,  we  hope,  living  —  whom  we  found  in  the  ago- 
nies of  producing  a  farce  which  subsequently  set  the  theatres  10 
in  a  roar. 

TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Does  the  incident  of  the  counterfeit  guinea  seem  to  show  a  malig- 
nant spirit  toward  Goldsmith  on  the  part  of  the  members  of  the  whist 
club? 

2.  Does  it  seem  incongruous  that  a  pig  butcher  should  be  charmed 
by  "  The  Traveller  "  ? 

3.  What  was  a  Grub-Street  hack  ? 

4.  Is  it  a  severe  criticism  of  a  man  to  say  that  he  wrote  more  than 
he  read  ? 

5.  Where  and  how  did  Goldsmith  get  the  nickname  "  Noll "  ? 

6.  Describe  the  members  of  the  club  that  met  at  the  Globe  Tavern. 
How  did  this  club  differ  from  the  literary  club? 


CHAPTER   XX 

The  Great  Cham  of  Literature  and  the  King — Scene  at  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's 
—  Goldsmith  accused  of  Jealousy  —  Negotiations  with  Garrick  —  The  Author 
and  the  Actor ;  Their  Correspondence. 

The  comedy  of  "The  Good-natured  Man"  was  completed 
by  Goldsmith  early  in  1767,  and  submitted  to  the  perusal  of 
Johnson,  Burke,  Reynolds,  and  others  of  the  literary  club, 
by  whom  it  was  heartily  approved.  Johnson,  who  was  seldom 
5  half-way  either  in  censure  or  applause,  pronounced  it  the  best 
comedy  that  had  been  written  since  "The  Provoked  Hus- 
band," and  promised  to  furnish  the  prologue.  This  imme- 
diately became  an  object  of  great  solicitude  with  Goldsmith, 
knowing  the  weight  an  introduction  from  the  Great  Cham 

10  of  literature  would  have  with  the  public  ;  but  circumstances 
occurred  which  he  feared  might  drive  the  comedy  and  the 
prologue  from  Johnson's  thoughts.  The  latter  was  in  the 
habit  of  visiting  the  royal  library  at  the  Queen's  (Bucking- 
ham) House,  a  noble  collection  of  books,  in  the  formation 

15  of  which  he  had  assisted  the  librarian,  Mr.  Bernard,  with  his 
advice.  One  evening,  as  he  was  seated  there  by  the  fire 
reading,  he  was  surprised  by  the  entrance  of  the  King 
(George  III),  then  a  young  man,  who  sought  this  occasion 
to  have  a  conversation  with  him.  The  conversation  was 

20  varied  and  discursive,  the  King  shifting  from  subject  to  sub- 
ject according  to  his  wont.  "  During  the  whole  interview," 
says  Boswell,  "  Johnson  talked  to  his  Majesty  with  profound 
respect,  but  still  in  his  open,  manly  manner,  with  a  sonorous 
voice,  and  never  in  that  subdued  tone  which  is  commonly 

25  used  at  the  levee  and  in  the  drawing-room.  '  I  found  his 
Majesty  wished  I  should  talk,'  said  he,  '  and  I  made  it  my 


JOHNSON    AND   THE    KING  173 

business  to  talk.     I  find  it  does  a  man  good  to  be  talked  to 
by  his  sovereign.     In  the  first  place,  a  man  cannot  be  in  a 
passion.'  "     It  would  have  been  well  for  Johnson's  colloquial 
disputants,  could  he  have  often  been  under  such  decorous 
restraint.     Profoundly    monarchical    in    his    principles,    he    5 
retired  from  the  interview  highly  gratified  with  the  conver- 
sation of  the  King  and  with  his  gracious  behavior.     "  Sir," 
said  he  to  the  librarian,  "  they  may  talk  of  the  King  as  they 
will,  but  he  is  the  finest  gentleman  I  have  ever  seen."- 
"  Sir,"  said  he  subsequently  to  Bennet  Langton,  "his  man-  10 
ners  are  those  of  as  fine  a  gentleman  as  we  may  suppose 
Louis  the  Fourteenth  or  Charles  the  Second." 

While  Johnson's  face  was  still  radiant  with  the  reflex  of 
royalty,  he  was  holding  forth  one  day  to  a  listening  group 
at  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's,  who  were  anxious  to  hear  every  15 
particular  of  this  memorable  conversation.     Among  other 
questions,  the  King  had  asked  him  whether  he  was  writing 
anything.     His  reply  was,  that  he  thought  he  had  already 
done  his  part  as  a  writer.     "  I  should  have  thought  so  too," 
said  the  King,  "if  you  had  not  written  so  well."-— "No  20 
man,"   said  Johnson,  commenting  on  this  speech,  "could 
have  made  a  handsomer  compliment;  and  it  was  fit  for  a 
King  to  pay.     It  was  decisive."  -— "  But  did  you  make  no 
reply  to  this  high  compliment  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  company. 
"  No,  sir,"  replied  the  profoundly  deferential  Johnson  ;  "  when  25 
the  King  had  said  it,  it  was  to  be  so.     It  was  not  for  me  to 
bandy  civilities  with  my  sovereign." 

During  all  the  time  that  Johnson  was  thus  holding  forth, 
Goldsmith,  who  was  present,  appeared  to  take  no  interest  in 
the  royal  theme,  but  remained  seated  on  a  sofa  at  a  distance,  30 
in  a  moody  fit  of  abstraction ;  at  length  recollecting  himself, 
he  sprang  up,  and  advancing,  exclaimed,  with  what  Boswell 
calls  his  usual  "frankness  and  simplicity," — "Well,  you 
acquitted  yourself -in  this  conversation  better  than  I  should 


1/4  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

have  done,  for  I  should  have  bowed  and  stammered  through 
the  whole  of  it."  He  afterwards  explained  his  seeming 
inattention  by  saying  that  his  mind  was  completely  occupied 
about  his  play,  and  by  fears  lest  Johnson,  in  his  present 
5  state  of  royal  excitement,  would  fail  to  furnish  the  much- 
desired  prologue. 

How  natural  and  truthful  is  this  explanation.  Yet  Bos- 
well  presumes  to  pronounce  Goldsmith's  inattention  affected, 
and  attributes  it  to  jealousy.  "  It  was  strongly  suspected," 

10  says  he,  "  that  he  was  fretting  with  chagrin  and  envy  at  the 
singular  honor  Dr.  Johnson  had  lately  enjoyed."  It  needed 
the  littleness  of  mind  of  Boswell  to  ascribe  such  pitiful 
motives  to  Goldsmith,  and  to  entertain  such  exaggerated 
notions  of  the  honor  paid  to  Dr.  Johnson. 

15  "The  Good-natured  Man"  was  now  ready  for  performance, 
but  the  question  was,  how  to  get  it  upon  the  stage.  The 
affairs  of  Covent  Garden,  for  which  it  had  been  intended, 
were  thrown  into  confusion  by  the  recent  death  of  Rich,  the 
manager.  Drury  Lane  was  under  the  management  of  Gar- 

20  rick  ;  but  a  feud,  it  will  be  recollected,  existed  between  him 
and  the  poet,  from  the  animadversions  of  the  latter  on  the 
mismanagement  of  theatrical  affairs,  and  the  refusal  of  the 
former  to  give  the  poet  his  vote  for  the  secretaryship  of 
the  Society  of  Arts.  Times,  however,  were  changed.  Gold- 

25  smith,  when  that  feud  took  place,  was  an  anonymous  writer, 
almost  unknown  to  fame,  and  of  no  circulation  in  society. 
Now  he  had  become  a  literary  lion  ;  he  was  a  member  of 
the  Literary  Club  ;  he  was  the  associate  of  Johnson,  Burke, 
Topham  Beauclerc,  and  other  magnates,  —  in  a  word,  he 

30  had  risen  to  consequence  in  the  public  eye,  and  of  course 
was  of  consequence  in  the  eyes  of  David  Garrick.  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  saw  the  lurking  scruples  of  pride  existing 
between  the  author  and  actor,  and  thinking  it  a  pity  that 
two  men  of  such  congenial  talents,  and  who  might  be  so 


NEGOTIATIONS  WITH   GARRICK  175 

serviceable  to  each  other,  should  be  kept  asunder  by  a 
worn-out  pique,  exerted  his  friendly  offices  to  bring  them 
together.  The  meeting  took  place  in  Reynolds's  house  in 
Leicester  Square.  Garrick,  however,  could  not  entirely  put 
off  the  mock  majesty  of  the  stage  ;  he  meant  to  be  civil,  but  5 
he  was  rather  too  gracious  and  condescending.  Tom  Davies, 
in  his  "Life  of  Garrick,"  gives  an  amusing  picture  of  the 
coming  together  of  these  punctilious  parties.  "The  man- 
ager," says  he,  "was  fully  conscious  of  his  (Goldsmith's) 
merit,  and  perhaps  more  ostentatious  of  his  abilities  to  serve  10 
a  dramatic  author  than  became  a  man  of  his  prudence ; 
Goldsmith  was,  on  his  side,  as  fully  persuaded  of  his  own 
importance  and  independent  greatness.  Mr.  Garrick,  who 
had  so  long  been  treated  with  the  complimentary  language 
paid  to  a  successful  patentee  and  admired  actor,  expected  15 
that  the  writer  would  esteem  the  patronage  of  his  play  a 
favor ;  Goldsmith  rejected  all  ideas  of  kindness  in  a  bargain 
that  was  intended  to  be  of  mutual  advantage  to  both  parties, 
and  in  this  he  was  certainly  justifiable;  Mr.  Garrick  could 
reasonably  expect  no  thanks  for  the  acting  a  new  play,  which  20 
he  would  have  rejected  if  he  had  not  been  convinced  it  would 
have  amply  rewarded  his  pains  and  expense.  I  believe  the 
manager  was  willing  to  accept  the  play,  but  he  wished  to  be 
courted  to  it ;  and  the  Doctor  was  not  disposed  to  purchase 
his  friendship  by  the  resignation  of  his  sincerity."  They  25 
separated,  however,  with  an  understanding  on  the  part  of 
Goldsmith  that  his  play  would  be  acted.  The  conduct  of 
Garrick  subsequently  proved  evasive,  not  through  any  linger- 
ings  of  past  hostility,  but  from  habitual  indecision  in  matters 
of  the  kind,  and  from  real  scruples  of  delicacy.  He  did  not  30 
think  the  piece  likely  to  succeed  on  the  stage,  and  avowed 
that  opinion  to  Reynolds  and  Johnson,  —  but  hesitated  to 
say  as  much  to  Goldsmith,  through  fear  of  wounding  his 
feelings.  A  further  misunderstanding  was  the  result  of  this 


1/6  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

want  of  decision  and  frankness ;  repeated  interviews  and 
some  correspondence  took  place  without  bringing  matters 
to  a  point,  and  in  the  mean  time  the  theatrical  season  passed 
away. 

5  Goldsmith's  pocket,  never  well  supplied,  suffered  griev- 
ously by  this  delay,  and  he  considered  himself  entitled  to 
call  upon  the  manager,  who  still  talked  of  acting  the  play, 
to  advance  him  forty  pounds  upon  a  note  of  the  younger 
Newbery.  Garrick  readily  complied,  but  subsequently  sug- 

10  gested  certain  important  alterations  in  the  comedy  as  indis- 
pensable to  its  success ;  these  were  indignantly  rejected  by 
the  author,  but  pertinaciously  insisted  on  by  the  manager. 
Garrick  proposed  to  leave  the  matter  to  the  arbitration  of 
Whitehead,  the  laureate,  who  officiated  as  his  "  reader  "  and 

15  elbow-critic.  Goldsmith  was  more  indignant  than  ever,  and 
a  violent  dispute  ensued,  which  was  only  calmed  by  the 
interference  of  Burke  and  Reynolds. 

Just  at  this  time,  order  came  out  of  confusion  in  the  affairs 
of  Covent  Garden.     A  pique  having  risen  between  Colman 

20  and  Garrick,  in  the  course  of  their  joint  authorship  of  "  The 
Clandestine  Marriage,"  the  former  had  become  manager  and* 
part-proprietor  of  Covent  Garden,  and  was  preparing  to  open 
a  powerful  competition  with  his  former  colleague.    On  hear- 
ing of  this,  Goldsmith  made  overtures  to  Colman ;  who,  with- 

25  out  waiting  to  consult  his  fellow-proprietors,  who  were  absent, 
gave  instantly  a  favorable  reply.  Goldsmith  felt  the  contrast 
of  this  warm,  encouraging  conduct,  to  the  chilling  delays  and 
objections  of  Garrick.  He  at  once  abandoned  his  piece  to 
the  discretion  of  Colman.  "  Dear  sir,"  says  he,  in  a  letter 

30  dated  Temple  Garden  Court,  July  gth,  "  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  partiality  in  my  favor,  and 
your  tenderness  in  shortening  the  interval  of  my  expectation. 
That  the  play  is  liable  to  many  objections  I  well  know,  but 


LETTER    TO   GARRICK  177 

I  am  happy  that  it  is  in  hands  the  most  capable  in  the  world 
of  removing  them.  If  then,  dear  sir,  you  will  complete  your 
favor  by  putting  the  piece  into  such  a  state  as  it  may  be  acted, 
or.  of  directing  me  how  to  do  it,  I  shall  ever  retain  a  sense 
of  your  goodness  to  me.  And  indeed,  though  most  probably  5 
this  be  the  last  I  shall  ever  write,  yet  I  can't  help  feeling  a 
secret  satisfaction  that  poets  for  the  future  are  likely  to  have 
a  protector  who  declines  taking  advantage  of  their  dread- 
ful situation  —  and  scorns  that  importance  which  may  be 
acquired  by  trifling  with  their  anxieties."  10 

The  next  day  Goldsmith  wrote  to  Garrick,  who  was  at 
Litchfield,  informing  him  of  his  having  transferred  his  piece 
to  Covent  Garden,  for  which  it  had  been  originally  written, 
and  by  the  patentee  of  which  it  was  claimed,  observing, 
"As  I  found  you  had  very  great  difficulties  about  that  piece,  15 
I  complied  with  his  desire.  ...  I  am  extremely  sorry  that 
you  should  think  me  warm  at  our  last  meeting;  your  judg- 
ment certainly  ought  to  be  free,  especially  in  a  matter  which 
must  in  some  measure  concern  your  own  credit  and  interest. 
I  assure  you,  sir,  I  have  no  disposition  to  differ  with  you  on  20 
this  or  any  other  account,  but  am,  with  an  high  opinion  of 
your  abilities,  and  a  very  real  esteem,  sir,  your  most  obedient 
humble  servant.  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

In  his  reply,  Garrick  observed,  "  I  was,  indeed,  much  hurt 
that  your  warmth  at  our  last  meeting  mistook  my  sincere  and  25 
friendly  attention  to  your  play  for  the  remains  of  a  former 
misunderstanding,  which  I  had  .as  much  forgot  as  if  it  had 
never  existed.     What  I  said  to  you  at  my  own  house  I  now 
repeat,  that  I  felt  more  pain  in  giving  my  sentiments  than 
you  possibly  would  in  receiving  them.     It  has  been  the  busi-  30 
ness,  and  ever  will  be,  of  my  life  to  live  on  the  best  terms  with 
men  of  genius ;  and  I  know  that  Dr.  Goldsmith  will  have  no 
reason  to  change  his  previous  friendly  disposition  towards 


178  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

me,  as  I  shall  be  glad  of  every  future  opportunity  to  con- 
vince him  how  much  I  am  his  obedient  servant  and  well- 
wisher.  D.  GARRICK." 

TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Is  Johnson  appropriately  called  the  "  Great  Cham  of  Literature  "  ? 

2.  Explain  the  meaning  of  the  term  "  poet  laureate."    Name  some  of 
the  poets  laureate.     Are  you  anticipating  that  Goldsmith  will  be  chosen 
poet  laureate  before  his  death  ? 

3.  Why  does  not  Irving  insert  the  dates  of  more  of  Goldsmith's 
letters  which  he  quotes? 


CHAPTER   XXI 

More  Hack-Authorship  —  Tom  Da  vies  and  the  Roman  History  —  Canonbury 
Castle  —  Political  Authorship  —  Pecuniary  Temptation  —  Death  of  New- 
bery  the  Elder. 

Though  Goldsmith's  comedy  was  now  in  train  to  be  per- 
formed, it  could  not  be  brought  out  before  Christmas ;  in  the 
mean  time  he  must  live.  Again,  therefore,  he  had  to  resort 
to  literary  jobs  for  his  daily  support.  These  obtained  for 
him  petty  occasional  sums,  the  largest  of  which  was  ten  5 
pounds,  from  the  elder  Newbery,  for  an  historical  compila- 
tion ;  but  this  scanty  rill  of  quasi  patronage,  so  sterile  in 
its  products,  was  likely  soon  to  cease ;  Newbery  being  too 
ill  to  attend  to  business,  and  having  to  transfer  the  whole 
management  of  it  to  his  nephew.  10 

At  this  time  Tom  Davies,  the  sometime  Roscius,  sometime 
bibliopole,  stepped  forward  to  Goldsmith's  relief,  and  pro- 
posed that  he  should  undertake  an  easy  popular  history  of 
Rome  in  two  volumes.  An  arrangement  was  soon  made. 
Goldsmith  undertook  to  complete  it  in  two  years,  if  possible,  15 
for  two  hundred  and  fifty  guineas,  and  forthwith  set  about 
his  task  with  cheerful  alacrity.  As  usual,  he  sought  a  rural 
retreat  during  the  summer  months,  where  he  might  alter- 
nate his  literary  labors  with  strolls  about  the  green  fields. 
"  Merry  Islington"  was  again  his  resort,  but  he  now  aspired  20 
to  better  quarters  than  formerly,  and  engaged  the  chambers 
occupied  occasionally  by  Mr.  Newbery,  in  Canonbury  House, 
or  Castle,  as  it  is  popularly  called.  This  had  been  a  hunting- 
lodge  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  whose  time  it  was  surrounded 
by  parks  and  forests.  In  Goldsmith's  day,  nothing  remained  25 
of  it  but  an  old  brick  tower ;  it  was  still  in  the  country  amid 

179 


180  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

rural  scenery,  and  was  a  favorite  nestling-place  of  authors, 
publishers,  and  others  of  the  literary  order.1  A  number  of 
these  he  had  for  fellow-occupants  of  the  castle ;  and  they 
formed  a  temporary  club,  which  held  its  meetings  at  the 
5  Crown  Tavern,  on  the  Islington  lower  road;  and  here  he  pre- 
sided in  his  own  genial  style,  and  was  the  life  and  delight  of 
the  company. 

The  writer  of  these  pages  visited  old  Canonbury  Castle 
some  years  since,  out  of  regard  to  the  memory  of  Goldsmith. 

10  The  apartment  was  still  shown  which  the  poet  had  inhabited, 
consisting  of  a  sitting-room  and  small  bedroom,  with  pan- 
elled wainscots  and  Gothic  windows.  The  quaintness  and 
quietude  of  the  place  were  still  attractive.  It  was  one  of 
the  resorts  of  citizens  on  their  Sunday  walks,  who  would 

15  ascend  to  the  top  of  the  tower  and  amuse  themselves  with 
reconnoitring  the  city  through  a  telescope.  Not  far  from 
this  tower  were  the  gardens  of  the  White  Conduit  House, 
a  Cockney  Elysium,  where  Goldsmith  used  to  figure  in  the 
humbler  days  of  his  fortune.  In  the  first  edition  of  his 

20  Essays  he  speaks  of  a  stroll  in  these  gardens,  where  he  at 
that  time,  no  doubt,  thought  himself  in  perfectly  genteel 
society.  After  his  rise  in  the  world,  however,  he  became 
too  knowing  to  speak  of  such  plebeian  haunts.  In  a  new 
edition  of  his  Essays,  therefore,  the  White  Conduit  House 

25  and  its  garden  disappears,  and  he  speaks  of  "  a  stroll  in 
the  Park." 

1  See  on  the  distant  slope,  majestic  shows 
Old  Canonbury's  tower,  an  ancient  pile 
To  various  fates  assigned ;  and  where  by  turns 
Meanness  and  grandeur  have  alternate  reign'd ; 
Thither,  in  latter  days,  hath  genius  fled 
From  yonder  city,  to  respire  and  die. 
There  the  sweet  bard  of  Auburn  sat,  and  tuned 
The  plaintive  meanings  of  his  village  dirge. 
There  learned  Chambers  treasured  lore  for  men, 
And  Newbery  there  his  A-B-C's  for  babes. 


PECUNIARY   TEMPTATION  l8l 

While  Goldsmith  was  literally  living  from  hand  to  mouth 
by  the  forced  drudgery  of  the  pen,  his  independence  of  spirit 
was  subjected  to  a  sore  pecuniary  trial.  It  was  the  opening 
of  Lord  North's  administration,  a  time  of  great  political 
excitement.  The  public  mind  was  agitated  by  the  question  5 
of  American  taxation,  and  other  questions  of  like  irritating 
tendency.  Junius  and  Wilkes  and  other  powerful  writers 
were  attacking  the  administration  with  all  their  force ;  Grub 
Street  was  stirred  up  to  its  lowest  depths;  inflammatory 
talent  of  all  kinds  was  in  full  activity,  and  the  kingdom  was  10 
deluged  with  pamphlets,  lampoons,  and  libels  of  the  grossest 
kinds.  The  ministry  were  looking  anxiously  round  for  liter- 
ary support.  It  was  thought  that  the  pen  of  Goldsmith 
might  be  readily  enlisted.  His  hospitable  friend  and  coun- 
tryman, Robert  Nugent,  politically  known  as  Squire  Gawky,  15 
had  come  out  strenuously  for  colonial  taxation ;  had  been 
selected  for  a  lordship  of  the  board  of  trade,  and  raised  to 
the  rank  of  Baron  Nugent  and  Viscount  Clare.  His  example, 
it  was  thought,,  would  be  enough  of  itself  to  bring  Goldsmith 
into  the  ministerial  ranks  ;  and  then  what  writer  of  the  day  20 
was  proof  against  a  full  purse  or  a  pension?  Accordingly 
one  Parson  Scott,  chaplain  to  Lord  Sandwich,  and  author  of 
"Anti  Sejanus  Panurge,"  and  other  political  libels  in  sup- 
port of  the  administration,  was  sent  to  negotiate  with  the 
poet,  who  at  this  time  was  returned  to  town.  Dr.  Scott,  25 
in  after-years,  when  his  political  subserviency  had  been 
rewarded  by  two  fat  crown-livings,  used  to  make  what  he 
considered  a  good  story  out  of  this  embassy  to  the  poet. 
"  I  found  him,"  said  he,  "in  a  miserable  suit  of  chambers  in 
the  Temple.  I  told  him  my  authority :  I  told  how  I  was  30 
empowered  to  pay  most  liberally  for  his  exertions;  and, 
would  you  believe  it !  he  was  so  absurd  as  to  say,  '  I  can 
earn  as  much  as  will  supply  my  wants  without  writing  for 
any  party ;  the  assistance  you  offer  is  therefore  unnecessary 


182  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

to  me ' ;  —  and  so  I  left  him  in  his  garret !  "  Who  does  not 
admire  the  sturdy  independence  of  poor  Goldsmith  toiling 
in  his  garret  for  nine  guineas  the  job,  and  smile  with  con- 
tempt at  the  indignant  wonder  of  the  political  divine,  albeit 
5  his  subserviency  was  repaid  by  two  fat  crown-livings  ? 

Not  long  after  this  occurrence,  Goldsmith's  old  friend, 
though  frugal-handed  employer,  Newbery,  of  picture-book 
renown,  closed  his  mortal  career.  The  poet  has  celebrated 
him  as  the  friend  of  all  mankind ;  he  certainly  lost  nothing 

10  by  his  friendship.  He  coined  the  brains  of  his  authors  in 
the  times  of  their  exigency,  and  made  them  pay  dear  for  the 
plank  put  out  to  keep  them  from  drowning.  It  is  not  likely 
his  death  caused  much  lamentation  among  the  scribbling 
tribe  ;  we  may  express  decent  respect  for  the  memory  of  the 

15  just,  but  we  shed  tears  only  at  the  grave  of  the  generous. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Goldsmith's  independence. 

2.  Tell  what  Goldsmith  gained  by  spending  the  summer  months 
mostly  in  the  country. 

3.  Did  Goldsmith  take  any  part  in  the  politics  of  his  time? 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Theatrical  Manoeuvring — The  Comedy  of  "False  Delicacy"  —  First  Perform- 
ance of  "  The  Good-natured  Man  "  —  Conduct  of  Johnson  —  Conduct  of 
the  Author  —  Intermeddling  of  the  Press-. 

The  comedy  of  "The  Good-natured  Man"  was  doomed 
to  experience  delays  and  difficulties  to  the  very  last.  Gar- 
rick,  notwithstanding  his  professions,  had  still  a  lurking 
grudge  against  the  author,  and  tasked  his  managerial  arts 
to  thwart  him  in  his  theatrical  enterprise.  For  this  purpose  5 
he  undertook  to  build  up  Hugh  Kelly,  Goldsmith's  boon 
companion  of  the  Wednesday  club,  as  a  kind  of  rival. 
Kelly  had  written  a  comedy  called  "  False  Delicacy,"  in 
which  were  embodied  all  the  meretricious  qualities  of  the 
sentimental  school.  Garrick,  though  he  had  decried  that  10 
school,  and  had  brought  out  his  comedy  of  "The  Clan- 
destine Marriage  "  in  opposition  to  it,  now  lauded  "  False 
Delicacy"  to  the  skies,  and  prepared  to  bring  it  out  at 
Drury  Lane  with  all  possible  stage-effect.  He  even  went  so 
far  as  to  write  a  prologue  and  epilogue  for  it,  and  to  touch  15 
up  some  parts  of  the  dialogue.  He  had  become  reconciled 
to  his  former  colleague,  Colman,  and  it  is  intimated  that  one 
condition  in  the  treaty  of  peace  between  these  potentates  of 
the  realms  of  pasteboard  (equally  prone  to  play  into  each 
other's  hands  with  the  confederate  potentates  on  the  great  20 
theatre  of  life)  was,  that  Goldsmith's  play  should  be  kept 
back  until  Kelly's  had  been  brought  forward. 

In  the  mean  time  the  poor  author,  little  dreaming  of  the 
deleterious  influence  at  work  behind  the  scenes,   saw  the 
appointed  time  arrive  and  pass  by  without  the  performance  25 
pf  his  play  ;  while  "  False  Delicacy "  was  brought  out  at 

183 


1 84  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

Drury  Lane  (January  23,  1768)  with  all  the  trickery  of  mana- 
gerial management.  Houses  were  packed  to  applaud  it  to 
the  echo ;  the  newspapers  vied  with  each  other  in  their  venal 
praises,  and  night  after  night  seemed  to  give  it  a  fresh 
5  triumph. 

While  "  False  Delicacy  "  was  thus  borne  on  the  full  tide 
of  fictitious  prosperity,  "The  Good-natured  Man"  was 
creeping  through  the  last  rehearsals  at  Covent  Garden. 
The  success  of  the  rival  piece  threw  a  damp  upon  author, 

10  manager,  and  actors.  Goldsmith  went  about  with  a  face 
full  of  anxiety;  Colman's  hopes  in  the  piece  declined  at 
each  rehearsal ;  as  to  his  fellow-proprietors,  they  declared 
they  had  never  entertained  any.  All  the  actors  were  dis- 
contented with  their  parts,  except  Ned  Shuter,  an  excellent 

15  low  comedian,  and  a  pretty  actress  named  Miss  Walford ; 
both  of  whom  the  poor  author  ever  afterward  held  in  grateful 
recollection. 

Johnson,  Goldsmith's  growling  monitor  and  unsparing 
castigator  in  times  of  heedless  levity,  stood  by  him  at 

20  present  with  that  protecting  kindness  with  which  he  ever 
befriended  him  in  time  of  need.  He  attended  the  rehearsals  ; 
he  furnished  the  prologue  according  to  promise  ;  he  pish'd 
and  pshaw'd  at  any  doubts  and  fears  on  the  part  of  the 
author,  but  gave  him  sound  counsel,  and  held  him  up  with 

25  a  steadfast  and  manly  hand.  Inspirited  by  his  sympathy, 
Goldsmith  plucked  up  new  heart,  and  arrayed  himself  for 
the  grand  trial  with  unusual  care.  Ever  since  his  elevation 
into  the  polite  world,  he  had  improved  in  his  wardrobe  and 
toilet.  Johnson  could  no  longer  accuse  him  of  being  shabby 

30  in  his  appearance ;  he  rather  went  to  the  other  extreme. 
On  the  present  occasion  there  is  an  entry  in  the  books  of 
his  tailor,  Mr.  William  Filby,  of  a  suit  of  "  Tyrian  bloom, 
satin  grain,  and  garter  blue  silk  breeches,  ,£8  25.  "jd."  Thus 
magnificently  attired,  he  attended  the  theatre  and  watched 


THEATRICAL    MANOEUVRING  185 

the  reception  of  the  play,  and  the  effect  of  each  individual 
scene,  with  that  vicissitude  of  feeling  incident  to  his  mercurial 
nature. 

Johnson's  prologue  was  solemn  in  itself,  and  being  deliv- 
ered by  Brinsley  in  lugubrious  tones  suited  to  the  ghost  in     5 
"  Hamlet,"  seemed  to  throw  a   portentous   gloom    on    the 
audience.     Some  of  the  scenes  met  with  great  applause,  and 
at  such  times  Goldsmith  was  highly  elated ;  others  went  off 
coldly,  or  there  were  slight  tokens  of  disapprobation,  and 
then  his  spirits  would  sink.     The  fourth  act  saved  the  piece  ;  10 
for  Shuter,  who  had  the  main  comic  character  of  Croaker, 
was  so  varied  and  ludicrous  in  his  execution  of  the  scene 
in  which  he  reads  an  incendiary  letter,  that  he  drew  down 
thunders  of  applause.     On  his  coming  behind  the  scenes, 
Goldsmith  greeted  him  with  an  overflowing  heart ;  declaring  15 
that  he  exceeded  his  own  idea  of  the  character,  and  made  it 
almost  as  new  to  him  as  to  any  of  the  audience. 

,On  the  whole,  however,  both  the  author  and  his  friends 
were  disappointed  at  the  reception  of  the  piece,  and  con- 
sidered it  a  failure.     Poor  Goldsmith  left  the  theatre  with  20 
his  towering  hopes  completely  cut  down.     He  endeavored 
to    hide   his   mortification,  and   even   to   assume  an   air  of 
unconcern  while  among  his  associates  ;  but  the  moment  he 
was  alone  with  Dr.  Johnson,  in  whose  rough  but  magnani- 
mous nature  he  reposed  unlimited  confidence,  he  threw  off  25 
all  restraint  and  gave  way  to  an  almost  childlike  burst  of 
grief.     Johnson,  who  had  shown  no  want  of  sympathy  at  the 
proper  time,  saw  nothing  in  the  partial  disappointment  of 
oVerrated  expectations  to  warrant  such  ungoverned  emotions, 
and  rebuked  him  sternly  for  what  he  termed  a  silly  affecta-  30 
tion,  saying  that  "  No  man  should  be  expected  to  sympathize 
with  the  sorrows  of  vanity." 

When  Goldsmith  had  recovered  from  the  blow,  he,  with 
his  usual   unreserve,   made  his  past  distress  a  subject  of 


186  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

amusement  to  his  friends.  Dining  one  day,  in  company  with 
Dr.  Johnson,  at  the  chaplain's  table  at  St.  James's  Palace,  he 
entertained  the  company  with  a  particular  and  comic  account 
of  all  his  feelings  on  the  night  of  representation,  and  his 
5  despair  when  the  piece  was  hissed.  How  he  went,  he  said, 
to  the  Literary  Club  ;  chatted  gayly,  as  if  nothing  had  gone 
amiss  ;  and,  to  give  a  greater  idea  of  his  unconcern,  sang  his 
favorite  song  about  an  old  woman  tossed  in  a  blanket  seven- 
teen times  as  high  as  the  moon "  All  this  while," 

10  added  he,  "  I  was  suffering  horrid  tortures,  and,  had  I  put 
a  bit  in  my  mouth,  I  verily  believe  it  would  have  strangled 
me  on  the  spot,  I  was  so  excessively  ill ;  but  I  made  more 
noise  than  usual  to  cover  all  that ;  so  they  never  perceived 
my  not  eating,  nor  suspected  the  anguish  of  my  heart ;  but 

15  when  all  were  gone  except  Johnson  here,  I  burst  out  a-crying, 
and  even  swore  that  I  would  never  write  again." 

Dr.  Johnson  sat  in  amaze  at  the  odd  frankness  and  child- 
like self-accusation  of  poor  Goldsmith.  When  the  latter 
had  come  to  a  pause,  "  All  this,  Doctor,"  said  he,  dryly,  "  I 

20  thought  had  been  a  secret  between  you  and  me,  and  I  am 
sure  I  would  not  have  said  anything  about  it  for  the  world." 
But  Goldsmith  had  no  secrets  :  his  follies,  his  weaknesses, 
his  errors  were  all  thrown  to  the  surface ;  his  heart  was 
really  too  guileless  and  innocent  to  seek  mystery  and  con- 

25  cealment.  It  is  too  often  the  false,  designing  man  that  is 
guarded  in  his  conduct  and  never  offends  proprieties. 

It  is  singular,  however,  that  Goldsmith,  who  thus  in  con- 
versation could  keep  nothing  to  himself,  should  be  the 
author  of  a  maxim  which  would  inculcate  the  most  thorough 

30  dissimulation.  "  Men  of  the  world,"  says  he  in  one  of  the 
papers  of  the  "  Bee,"  "  maintain  that  the  true  end  of  speech 
is  not  so  much  to  express  our  wants  as  to  conceal  them." 
How  often  is  this  quoted  as  one  of  the  subtle  remarks  of  the 
fine-witted  Talleyrand ! 


INTERMEDDLING   OF  THE    PRESS  187 

"  The  Good-natured  Man  "  was  performed  for  ten  nights 
in  succession  ;  the  third,  sixth,  and  ninth  nights  were  for 
the  author's  benefit ;  the  fifth  night  it  was  commanded  by 
their  Majesties  ;  after  this  it  was  played  occasionally,  but 
rarely,  having  always  pleased  more  in  the  closet  than  on  5 
the  stage. 

As  to  Kelly's  comedy,  Johnson  pronounced  it  entirely 
devoid  of  character,  and  it  has  long  since  passed  into  oblivion. 
Yet  it  is  an  instance  how  an  inferior  production,  by  dint  of 
puffing  and  trumpeting,  may  be  kept  up  for  a  time  on  the  10 
surface  of  popular  opinion,  or  rather  of  popular  talk.  What 
had  been  done  for  "  False  Delicacy  "  on  the  stage  was  con- 
tinued by  the  press.  The  booksellers  vied  with  the  manager 
in  launching  it  upon  the  town.  They  announced  that  the 
first  impression  of  three  thousand  copies  was  exhausted  15 
before  two  o'clock  on  the  day  of  publication  ;  four  editions, 
amounting  to  ten  thousand  copies,  were. sold  in  the  course 
of  the  season  ;  a  public  breakfast  was  given  to  Kelly  at  the 
Chapter  Coffee-House,  and  a  piece  of  plate  presented  to 
him  by  the  publishers.  The  comparative  merits  of  the  two  20 
plays  were  continually  subjects  of  discussion  in  green-rooms, 
coffee-houses,  and  other  places  where  theatrical  questions 
were  discussed. 

Goldsmith's  old  enemy,  Kenrick,  that  "  viper  of  the  press," 
endeavored  on  this,  as  on  many  other  occasions,  to  detract  25 
from  his  well-earned  fame ;  the  poet  was  excessively  sensi- 
tive to  these  attacks,  and  had  not  the  art  and  self-command 
to  conceal  his  feelings. 

Some  scribblers  on  the  other  side  insinuated  that  Kelly 
had  seen  the  manuscript  of  Goldsmith's  play,  while  in  the  30 
hands  of  Garrick  or  elsewhere,  and  had  borrowed  some  of 
the  situations  and  sentiments.  Some  of  the  wags  of  the  day 
took  a  mischievous  pleasure  in  stirring  up  a  feud  between 
the  two  authors.  Goldsmith  became  nettled,  though  he  could 


188  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

scarcely  be  deemed  jealous  of  one  so  far  his  inferior.  He 
spoke  disparagingly,  though  no  doubt  sincerely,  of  Kelly's 
play:  the  latter  retorted.  Still,  when  they  met  one  day 
behind  the  scenes  of  Covent  Garden,  Goldsmith,  with  his 
5  customary  urbanity,  congratulated  Kelly  on  his  success. 
"  If  I  thought  you  sincere,  Mr.  Goldsmith,"  replied  the 
other,  abruptly,  "  I  should  thank  you."  Goldsmith  was  not 
a  man  to  harbor  spleen  or  ill-will,  and  soon  laughed  at  this 
unworthy  rivalship ;  but  the  jealousy  and  envy  awakened  in 
10  Kelly's  mind  long  continued.  He  is  even  accused  of  hav- 
ing given  vent  to  his  hostility  by  anonymous  attacks  in  the 
newspapers,  the  basest  resource  of  dastardly  and  malignant 
spirits  ;  but  of  this  there  is  no  positive  proof. 


TOPICS   AND    QUESTIONS 

1.  Character  of  Garrick  as  brought  out  by  Irving.     Is  this  a  just 
historical  estimate  ? 

2.  What  does  Irving  mean  by  calling  Goldsmith's  nature  mercurial  ? 

3.  Mention  the  difficulties  and  the  delays  attending  the  first  pres- 
entation of  Goldsmith's  play,  "The  Good-natured  Man."     Compare  the 
first  performance  of  this  play  with  the  first  presentation  of  "  Hernani " 
in  Paris.     [Talk  over  the  matter  with  your  teacher  of  French  or  modern 
languages.] 

4.  Who  were  Kelly  and  Kenrick  ? 

5.  Goldsmith's  ingenuousness  among  his  friends. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

Burning  the  Candle  at  both  Ends  —  Fine  Apartments  —  Fine  Furniture  —  Fine 
Clothes — Fine  Acquaintances  —  Shoemaker's  Holiday  and  Jolly-Pigeon 
Associates — Peter  Barlow,  Glover,  and  the  Hampstead  Hoax — Poor 
Friends  among  great  Acquaintances. 

The  profits  resulting  from  "  The  Good-natured  Man"  were 
beyond  any  that  Goldsmith  had  yet  derived  from  his  works. 
He  netted  about  four  hundred  pounds  from  the  theatre,  and 
one  hundred  pounds  from  his  publisher. 

Five  hundred  pounds  !  and  all  at  one  miraculous  draught !    5 
It  appeared  to  him  wealth  inexhaustible.     It  at  once  opened 
his  heart  and  hand,  and  led  him  into  all  kinds  of  extrava- 
gance.    The  first  symptom  was  ten  guineas  sent  to  Shuter 
for  a  box-ticket  for  his  benefit,  when  "  The  Good-natured 
Man  "  was  to  be  performed.     The  next  was  an  entire  change  10 
in  his  domicil.     The  shabby  lodgings  with  Jeffs,  the  butler, 
in  which  he  had  been  worried  by  Johnson's  scrutiny,  were 
now  exchanged  for  chambers  more  becoming  a  man  of  his 
ample  fortune.     The  apartments  consisted  of  three  rooms 
on  the  second  floor  of  No.  2  Brick  Court,  Middle  Temple,  15 
on  the  right  hand  ascending  the  staircase,  and  overlooked 
the  umbrageous  walks  of  the  Temple  garden.     The  lease  he 
purchased  for  ^400,  and  then  went  on  to  furnish  his  rooms 
with  mahogany  sofas,  card-tables,  and  bookcases ;  with  cur- 
tains, mirrors,  and  Wilton  carpets.     His  awkward  little  person  20 
was  also  furnished  out  in  a  style  befitting  his  apartment ;  for, 
in  addition  to  his  suit  of  "Tyrian  bloom,  satin  grain,"  we 
find  another  charged  about  this  time,  in  the  books  of  Mr.  Filby, 
in  no  less  gorgeous  terms,  being  "  lined  with  silk  and  fur- 
nished with  gold  buttons."     Thus  lodged  and  thus  arrayed,  25 
IK-  invited  the  visits  of  his  most  aristocratic  acquaintances, 

189 


190  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

and  no  longer  quailed  beneath  the  courtly  eye  of  Beauclerc. 
He  gave  dinners  to  Johnson,  Reynolds,  Percy,  Bickerstaff, 
and  other  friends  of  note  ;  and  supper-parties  to  young  folks 
of  both  sexes.  These  last  were  preceded  by  round  games 
5  of  cards, 'at  which  there  was  more  laughter  than  skill,  and 
in  which  the  sport  was  to  cheat  each  other ;  or  by  romping 
games  of  forfeits  and  blind-man's-buff,  at  which  he  enacted 
the  lord  of  misrule.  Blackstone,  whose  chambers  were  imme- 
diately below,  and  who  was  studiously  occupied  on  his  "  Com- 

10  mentaries,"  used  to  complain  of  the  racket  made  overhead 
by  his  revelling  neighbor. 

Sometimes  Goldsmith  would  make  up  a  rural  party,  com- 
posed of  four  or  five  of  his  "  jolly-pigeon  "  friends,  to  enjoy 
what  he  humorously  called  a  "  shoemaker's  holiday."  These 

15  would  assemble  at  his  chambers  in  the  morning,  to  partake 
of  a  plentiful  and  rather  expensive  breakfast ;  the  remains 
of  which,  with  his  customary  benevolence,  he  generally  gave 
to  some  poor  woman  in  attendance.  The  repast  ended,  the 
party  would  set  out  on  foot,  in  high  spirits,  making  extensive 

20  rambles  by  foot-paths  and  green  lanes  to  Blackheath,  Wands- 
worth,  Chelsea,  Hampton  Court,  Highgate,  or  some  other 
pleasant  resort,  within  a  few  miles  of  London.  A  simple  but 
gay  and  heartily  relished  dinner,  at  a  country  inn,  crowned 
the  excursion.  In  the  evening  they  strolled  back  to  town, 

25  all  the  better  in  health  and  spirits  for  a  day  spent  in  rural 
and  social  enjoyment.  Occasionally,  when  extravagantly 
inclined,  they  adjourned  from  dinner  to  drink  tea  at  the 
White  Conduit  House ;  and,  now  and  then,  concluded  their 
festive  day  by  supping  at  the  Grecian  or  Temple  Exchange 

30  Coffee-Houses,  or  at  the  Globe  Tavern,  in  Fleet  Street.  The 
whole  expenses  of  the  day  never  exceeded  a  crown,  and  were 
oftener  from  three  and  sixpence  to  four  shillings ;  for  the 
best  part  of  their  entertainment,  sweet  air  and  rural  scenes, 
excellent  exercise  and  joyous  conversation,  cost  nothing. 


SHOEMAKER'S   HOLIDAY  19! 

One  of  Goldsmith's  humble  companions,  on  these  excur- 
sions, was  his  occasional  amanuensis,  Peter  Barlow,  whose 
quaint  peculiarities  afforded  much  amusement  to  the  com- 
pany. Peter  was  poor  but  punctilious,  squaring  his  expenses 
according  to  his  means.  He  always  wore  the  same  garb  ;  5 
fixed  his  regular  expenditure  for  dinner  at  a  trifling  sum, 
which,  if  left  to  himself,  he  never  exceeded,  but  which  he 
always  insisted  on  paying.  His  oddities  always  made  him 
a  welcome  companion  on  the  "  shoemaker's  holidays."  The 
dinner,  on  these  occasions,  generally  exceeded  considerably  10 
his  tariff ;  he  put  down,  however,  no  more  than  his  regular 
sum,  and  Goldsmith  made  up  the  difference. 

Another  of  these  hangers-on,  for  whom,  on  such  occa- 
sions, he  was  content  to  "  pay  the  shot,"  was  his  countryman 
Glover,  of  whom  mention  has  already  been  made  as  one  of  15 
the  wags  and  sponges  of  the  Globe  and  Devil  taverns,  and 
a  prime  mimic  at  the  Wednesday  Club. 

This  vagabond  genius  has  bequeathed  us  a  whimsical  story 
of  one  of  his  practical  jokes  upon  Goldsmith,  in  the  course 
of  a  rural  excursion  in  the  vicinity  of  London.  They  had  20 
dined  at  an  inn  on  Hampstead  Heights,  and  were  descending 
the  hill,  when,  in  passing  a  cottage,  they  saw  through  the 
open  window  a  party  at  tea.  Goldsmith,  who  was  fatigued, 
cast  a  wistful  glance  at  the  cheerful  tea-table.  "  How  I 
should  like  to  be  of  that  party,"  exclaimed  he.  "  Nothing  25 
more  easy,"  replied  Glover;  "allow  me  to  introduce  you." 
So  saying,  he  entered  the  house  with  an  air  of  the  most  per- 
fect familiarity,  though  an  utter  stranger,  and  was  followed 
by  the  unsuspecting  Goldsmith,  who  supposed,  of  course, 
that  he  was  a  friend  of  the  family.  The  owner  of  the  house  30 
rose  on  the  entrance  of  the  strangers.  The  undaunted  Glover 
shook  hands  with  him  in  the  most  cordial  manner  possible, 
fixed  his  eye  on  one  of  the  company  who  had  a  peculiarly  good- 
natured  physiognomy,  muttered  something  like  a  recognition, 


192  OLIVER    GOLDSMITH 

and  forthwith  launched  into  an  amusing  story,  invented  at 
the  moment,  of  something  which  he  pretended  had  occurred 
upon  the  road.  The  host  supposed  the  new-comers  were 
friends  of  his  guests ;  the  guests,  that  they  were  friends  of 
5  the  host.  Glover  did  not  give  them  time  to  find  out  the 
truth.  He  followed  one  droll  story  with  another ;  brought 
his  powers  of  mimicry  into  play,  and  kept  the  company  in  a 
roar.  Tea  was  offered  and  accepted ;  an  hour  went  off  in 
the  most  sociable  manner  imaginable,  at  the  end  of  which 

jo  Glover  bowed  himself  and  his  companion  out  of  the  house 
with  many  facetious  last  words,  leaving  the  host  and  his 
company  to  compare  notes,  and  to  find  out  what  an  impu- 
dent intrusion  they  had  experienced. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  dismay  and  vexation  of  Gold- 

15  smith  when  triumphantly  told  by  Glover  that  it  was  all  a 
hoax,  and  that  he  did  not  know  a  single  soul  in  the  house. 
His  first  impulse  was  to  return  instantly  and  vindicate  him- 
self from  all  participation  in  the  jest ;  but  a  few  words  from 
his  free-and-easy  companion  dissuaded  him.  "  Doctor,"  said 

20  he,  coolly,  "  we  are  unknown  ;  you  quite  as  much  as  I ;  if 
you  return  and  tell  the  story,  it  will  be  in  the  newspapers 
to-morrow ;  nay,  upon  recollection,  I  remember  in  one  of 
their  offices  the  face  of  that  squinting  fellow  who  sat  in  the 
corner  as  if  he  was  treasuring  up  my  stories  for  future  use, 

25  and  we  shall  be  sure  of  being  exposed  ;  let  us  therefore  keep 
our  own  counsel." 

This  story  was  frequently  afterward  told  by  Glover,  with 
rich  dramatic  effect,  repeating  and  exaggerating  the  conver- 
sation, and  mimicking,  in  ludicrous  style,  the  embarrassment, 

30  surprise,  and  subsequent  indignation  of  Goldsmith. 

It  is  a  trite  saying  that  a  wheel  cannot  run  in  two  ruts; 
nor  a  man  keep  two  opposite  sets  of  intimates.  Goldsmith 
sometimes  found  his  old  friends  of  the  "  jolly-pigeon  "  order 
turning  up  rather  awkwardly  when  he  was  in  company  with 


THE   UNWELCOME  VISITOR  193 

his  new  aristocratic  acquaintances.  He  gave  a  whimsical 
account  of  the  sudden  apparition  of  one  of  them  at  his  gay 
apartments  in  the  Temple,  who  may  have  been  a  welcome 
visitor  at  his  squalid  quarters  in  Green  Arbor  Court.  "  How 
do  you  think  he  served  me  ?  "  said  he  to  a  friend.  "  Why,  5 
sir,  after  staying  away  two  years,  he  came  one  evening  into 
my  chambers,  half  drunk,  as  I  was  taking  a  glass  of  wine 
with  Topham  Beauclerc  and  General  Oglethorpe  ;  and  sitting 
himself  down,  with  most  intolerable  assurance  inquired  after 
my  health  and  literary  pursuits,  as  if  we  were  upon  the  most  10 
friendly  footing.  I  was  at  first  so  much  ashamed  of  ever 
having  known  such  a  fellow,  that  I  stifled  my  resentment, 
and  drew  him  into  a  conversation  on  such  topics  as  I  knew 
he  could  talk  upon  ;  in  which,  to  do  him  justice,  he  acquitted 
himself  very  reputably ;  when  all  of  a  sudden,  as  if  recollect-  15 
ing  something,  he  pulled  two  papers  out  of  his  pocket,  which 
he  presented  to  me  with  great  ceremony,  saying,  '  Here,  my 
dear  friend,  is  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  tea,  and  a  half  pound 
of  sugar,  I  have  brought  you ;  for  though  it  is  not  in  my 
power  at  present  to  pay  you  the  two  guineas  you  so  gener-  20 
ously  lent  me,  you,  nor  any  man  else,  shall  ever  have  it  to 
say  that  I  want  gratitude.'  This,"  added  Goldsmith,  "was 
too  much.  I  could  no  longer  keep  in  my  feelings,  but 
desired  him  to  turn  out  of  my  chambers  directly ;  which  he 
very  coolly  did,  taking  up  his  tea  and  sugar ;  and  I  never  23 
saw  him  afterwards." 


TOPICS    AND   QUESTIONS 

1 .  Using  the  details  given  in  Irving  and  filling  out  where  necessary 
from  your  imagination,  write  an  account  of  a  "  shoemaker's  holiday " 
on  some  specific  date.     [Let  Goldsmith  be  the  central  personage  in  the 
rural  excursion  about  which  you  write.] 

2.  Compare  one  of  the  scenes  in  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  with  the 
Glover  jest. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

Reduced  again  to  Book-building — Rural  Retreat  at  Shoemaker's  Paradise  — 
Death  of  Henry  Goldsmith;  Tributes  to  his  Memory  in  the  "Deserted 
Village." 

The  heedless  expenses  of  Goldsmith,  as  may  easily  be 
supposed,  soon  brought  him  to  the  end  of  his  "  prize-money," 
but  when  his  purse  gave  out  he  drew  upon  futurity,  obtain- 
ing advances  from  his  booksellers  and  loans  from  his  friends 

5  in  the  confident  hope  of  soon  turning  up  another  trump. 
The  debts  which  he  thus  thoughtlessly  incurred  in  conse- 
quence of  a  transient  gleam  of  prosperity  embarrassed  him 
for  the  rest  of  his  life;  so  that  the  success  of  the  "Good- 
natured  Man  "  may  be  said  to  have  been  ruinous  to  him. 

10  He  was  soon  obliged  to  resume  his  old  craft  of  book- 
building,  and  set  about  his  "  History  of  Rome,"  undertaken 
for  Davies. 

It  was  his  custom,  as  we  have  shown,  during  the  sum- 
mer-time, when  pressed  by  a  multiplicity  of  literary  jobs,  or 

15  urged  to  the  accomplishment  of  some  particular  task,  to  take 

.  country  lodgings  a  few  miles  from  town,  generally  on  the 
Harrow  or  Edgeware  roads,  and  bury  himself  there  for 
weeks  and  months  together.  Sometimes  he  would  remain 
closely  occupied  in  his  room,  at  other  times  he  would  stroll 

20  out  along  the  lanes  and  hedgerows,  and  taking  out  paper 
and  pencil,  note  down  thoughts  to  be  expanded  and  con- 
nected at  home.  His  summer  retreat  for  the  present  year, 
1768,  was  a  little  cottage  with  a  garden,  pleasantly  situated 
about  eight  miles  from  town  on  the  Edgeware  road.  He 

25  took  it  in  conjunction  with  a  Mr.  Edmund  Botts,  a  barris- 
ter and  man  of  letters,  his  neighbor  in  the  Temple,  having 

194 


SHOEMAKER'S   PARADISE  195 

rooms  immediately  opposite  him  on  the  same  floor.  They 
had  become  cordial  intimates,  and  Botts  was  one  of  those 
with  whom  Goldsmith  now  and  then  took  the  friendly  but 
pernicious  liberty  of  borrowing. 

The  cottage  which  they  had  hired  belonged  to  a  rich  shoe-    5 
maker  of  Piccadilly,  who  had  embellished  his  little  domain 
of  half  an  acre  with  statues,  and  jets,  and  all  the  decorations 
of  landscape  gardening;  in  consequence  of  which  Goldsmith 
gave  it  the   name  of  The  Shoemaker's  Paradise.     As  his 
fellow-occupant,  Mr.  Botts,  drove  a  gig,  he  sometimes,  in  an  10 
interval  of  literary  labor,  accompanied  him  to  town,  partook 
of  a  social  dinner  there,  and  returned  with  him  in  the  even- 
ing.    On  one  occasion,  when  they  had  probably  lingered 
too  long  at  the  table,  they  came  near  breaking  their  necks 
on  their  way  homeward  by  driving  against  a  post  on  the  15 
side-walk,  while   Botts   was  proving   by  the  force  of   legal 
eloquence  that  they  were  in  the  very  middle  of  the  broad 
Edgeware  road. 

In  the  course  of  this  summer,  Goldsmith's  career  of  gayety 
was  suddenly  brought  to  a  pause  by  intelligence  of  the  death  20 
of  his  brother  Henry,  then  but  forty-five  years  of  age.  He 
had  led  a  quiet  and  blameless  life  amid  the  scenes  of  his 
youth,  fulfilling  the  duties  of  village  pastor  with  unaffected 
piety;  conducting  the  school  at  Lissoy  with  a  degree  of 
industry  and  ability  that  gave  it  celebrity,  and  acquitting  25 
himself  in  all  the  duties  of  life  with  un deviating  rectitude 
and  the  mildest  benevolence.  How  truly  Goldsmith  loved 
and  venerated  him  is  evident  in  all  his  letters  and  through- 
out his  works;  in  which  his  brother  continually  forms  his 
model  for  an  exemplification  of  all  the  most  endearing  of  the  30 
Christian  virtues ;  yet  his  affection  at  his  death  was  embit- 
tered by  the  fear  that  he  died  with  some  doubt  upon  his 
mind  of  the  warmth  of  his  affection.  Goldsmith  had  been 
urged  by  his  friends  in  Ireland,  since  his  elevation  in  the 


196  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

world,  to  use  his  influence  with  the  great,  which  they 
supposed  to  be  all-powerful,  in  favor  of  Henry,  to  obtain 
for  him  church-preferment.  He  did  exert  himself  as  far 
as  his  diffident  nature  would  permit,  but  without  success ; 

5  we  have  seen  that,  in  the  case  of  the  Earl  of  Northumber- 
land, when,  as  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  that  nobleman 
proffered  him  his  patronage,  he  asked  nothing  for  himself, 
but  only  spoke  on  behalf  of  his  brother.  Still  some  of  his 
friends,  ignorant  of  what  he  had  done  and  of  how  little 

10  he  was  able  to  do,  accused  him  of  negligence.  It  is  not 
likely,  however,  that  his  amiable  and  estimable  brother  joined 
in  the  accusation. 

To  the  tender  and  melancholy  recollections  of  his  early 
days  awakened  by  the  death  of  this  loved  companion  of  his 

15  childhood,  we  may  attribute  some  of  the  most  heartfelt  pas- 
sages in  his  "Deserted  Village."  Much  of  that  poem  we 
are  told  was  composed  this  summer,  in  the  course  of  solitary 
strolls  about  the  green  lanes  and  beautifully  rural  scenes 
of  the  neighborhood ;  and  thus  much  of  the  softness  and 

20  sweetness  of  English  landscape  became  blended  with  the 
ruder  features  of  Lissoy.  It  was  in  these  lonely  and  sub- 
dued moments,  when  tender  regret  was  half  mingled  with 
self-upbraiding,  that  he  poured  forth  that  homage  of  the 
heart  rendered  as  it  were  at  the  grave  of  his  brother.  The 

25  picture  of  the  village  pastor  in  this  poem,  which  we  have 
already  hinted  was  taken  in  part  from  the  character  of  his 
father,  embodied  likewise  the  recollections  of  his  brother 
Henry;  for  the  natures  of  the  father  and  son  seem  to  have 
been  identical.  In  the  following  lines,  however,  Goldsmith 

30  evidently  contrasted  the  quiet  settled  life  of  his  brother, 
passed  at  home  in  the  benevolent  exercise  of  the  Christian 
duties,  with  his  own  restless  vagrant  career :  — 

"  Remote  from  towns  he  ran  his  godly  race, 
Nor  e'er  had  changed,  nor  wished  to  change  his  place." 


HENRY   GOLDSMITH  197 

To  us  the  whole  character  seems  traced  as  it  were  in  an 
expiatory  spirit;  as  if,  conscious  of  his  own  wandering  rest- 
lessness, he  sought  to  humble  himself  at  the  shrine  of  excel- 
lence which  he  had  not  been  able  to  practise :  — 

"  At  church  with  meek  and  unaffected  grace,  5 

His  looks  adorn'd  the  venerable  place ; 
Truth  from  his  lips  prevail'd  with  double  sway, 
And  fools,  who  came  to  scoff,  remained  to  pray. 
The  service  past,  around  the  pious  man, 

With  steady  zeal,  each  honest  rustic  ran ;  10 

Even  children  follow'd,  with  endearing  wile, 
And  pluck'd  his  gown,  to  share  the  good  man's  smile : 
His  ready  smile  a  parent's  warmth  express'd, 
Their  welfare  pleas'd  him,  and  their  cares  distress'd; 
To  them  his  heart,  his  love,  his  griefs  were  given,  15 

But  all  his  serious  thoughts  had  rest  in  heaven. 

And,  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 

To  tempt  its  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies, 

He  tried  each  art,  reprov'd  each  dull  delay, 

Allur'd  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  -way."  20 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Irving  again  calls  Goldsmith  heedless.     Why  is  the  adjective  a 
good  characterization  ? 

2.  Henry  Goldsmith's  life  and  character.     How  much    older   was 
Henry  than  Oliver?     In  what  points  of  character  did  they  differ? 


CHAPTER  XXV 

Dinner  at  BickerstafPs —  Hiffernan  and  his  Impecuniosity  —  Kenrick's  Epi- 
gram—  Johnson's  Consolation  —  Goldsmith's  Toilet — The  Bloom-colored 
Coat  —  New  Acquaintances;  The  Homecks  —  A  Touch  of  Poetry  and 
Passion  — The  Jessamy  Bride. 

In  October,  Goldsmith  returned  to  town  and  resumed  his 
usual  haunts.  We  hear  of  him  at  a  dinner  given  by  his  coun- 
tryman, Isaac  Bickerstaff,  author  of  "Love  in  a  Village," 
"  Lionel  and  Clarissa,"  and  other  successful  dramatic  pieces. 
5  The  dinner  was  to  be  followed  by  the  reading  by  Bickerstaff 
of  a  new  play.  Among  the  guests  was  one  Paul  Hiffernan, 
likewise  an  Irishman ;  somewhat  idle  and  intemperate ;  who 
lived  nobody  knew  how  nor  where,  sponging  wherever  he 
had  a  chance,  and  often  of  course  upon  Goldsmith,  who  was 

10  ever  the  vagabond's  friend,  or  rather  victim.  Hiffernan  was 
something  of  a  physician,  and  elevated  the  emptiness  of  his 
purse  into  the  dignity  of  a  disease,  which  he  termed  impecu- 
niosity,  and  against  which  he  claimed  a  right  to  call  for  relief 
from  the  healthier  purses  of  his  friends.  He  was  a  scribbler 

15  for  the  newspapers,  and  latterly  a  dramatic  critic,  which  had 
probably  gained  him  an  invitation  to  the  dinner  and  read- 
ing. The  wine  and  wassail,  however,  befogged  his  senses. 
Scarce  had  the  author  got  into  the  second  act  of  his  play, 
when  Hiffernan  began  to  nod,  and  at  length  snored  outright. 

20  Bickerstaff  was  embarrassed,  but  continued  to  read  in  a  more 
elevated  tone.  The  louder  he  read,  the  louder  Hiffernan 
snored;  until  the  author  came  to  a  pause.  "Never  mind 
the  brute,  Bick,  but  go  on,"  cried  Goldsmith.  "  He  would 
have  served  Homer  just  so  if  he  were  here  and  reading  his 

25  own  works." 

198 


GOLDSMITH'S  TOILET  199 

Kenrick,  Goldsmith's  old  enemy,  travestied  this  anecdote 
in  the  following  lines,  pretending  that  the  poet  had  com- 
pared his  countryman  Bickerstaff  to  Homer. 

"  What  are  your  Bretons,  Romans,  Grecians, 

Compared  with  thorough-bred  Milesians  1  5 

Step  into  Griffin's  shop,  he'll  tell  ye 

Of  Goldsmith,  Bickerstaff,  and  Kelly  .  .  . 

And,  take  one  Irish  evidence  for  t*  other, 

Ev'n  Homer's  self  is  but  their  foster-brother." 

Johnson  was  a  rough  consoler  to  a  man  when  wincing  10 
under  an  attack  of  this  kind.     "  Never  mind,  sir,"  said  he  to 
Goldsmith,  when  he  saw  that  he  felt  the  sting.     "A  man 
whose  business  it  is  to  be  talked  of  is  much  helped  by  being 
attacked.     Fame,  sir,  is  a  shuttlecock;  if  it  be  struck  only 
at  one  end  of  the  room,  it  will  soon  fall  to  the  ground;  to  15 
keep  it  up,  it  must  be  struck  at  both  ends." 

Bickerstaff,  at  the  time  of  which  we  are  speaking,  was  in 
high  vogue,  the  associate  of  the  first  wits  of  the  day ;  a  few 
years  afterwards  he  was  obliged  to  fly  the  country  to  escape 
the  punishment  of  an  infamous  crime.  Johnson  expressed  20 
great  astonishment  at  hearing  the  offence  for  which  he  had 
fled.  "  Why,  sir  ?  "  said  Thrale,  "  he  had  long  been  a  sus- 
pected man."  Perhaps  there  was  a  knowing  look  on  the 
part  of  the  eminent  brewer,  which  provoked  a  somewhat 
contemptuous  reply.  "  By  those  who  look  close  to  the  25 
ground,"  said  Johnson,  "dirt  will  sometimes  be  seen;  I  hope 
I  see  things  from  a  greater  distance." 

We  have  already  noticed  the  improvement,  or  rather  the 
increased  expense,  of  Goldsmith's  wardrobe  since  his  eleva- 
tion into  polite  society.  "  He  was  fond,"  says  one  of  his  30 
contemporaries,  "  of  exhibiting  his  muscular  little  person  in 
the  gayest  apparel  of  the  day,  to  which  was  added  a  bag-wig 
and  sword."  Thus  arrayed,  he  used  to  figure  about  in  the 


200  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

sunshine  in  the  Temple  Gardens,  much  to  his  own  satisfaction, 
but  to  the  amusement  of  his  acquaintances. 

Boswell,  in  his  memoirs,  has  rendered  one  of  his  suits 
forever  famous.  That  worthy,  on  the  i6th  of  October  in 
5  this  same  year,  gave  a  dinner  to  Johnson,  Goldsmith,  Reyn- 
olds, Garrick,  Murphy,  Bickerstaff,  and  Davies.  Goldsmith 
was  generally  apt  to  bustle  in  at  the  last  moment,  when 
the  guests  were  taking  their  seats  at  table ;  but  on  this 
occasion  he  was  unusually  early.  While  waiting  for  some 

10  lingerers  to  arrive,  "he  strutted  about,"  says  Boswell,  "  brag- 
ging of  his  dress,  and  I  believe  was  seriously  vain  of  it, 
for  his  mind  was  undoubtedly  prone  to  such  impressions. 
'  Come,  come,'  said  Garrick,  '  talk  no  more  of  that.  You 
are  perhaps  the  worst  —  eh,  eh?'  Goldsmith  was  eagerly 

15  attempting  to  interrupt  him,  when  Garrick  went  on,  laughing 
ironically.  '  Nay,  you  will  always  look  like  a  gentleman ; 
but  I  am  talking  of  your  being  well  or  /'//  dressed?  '  Well, 
let  me  tell  you,'  said  Goldsmith,  '  when  the  tailor  brought 
home  my  bloom-colored  coat,  he  said,  "  Sir,  I  have  a  favor  to 

20  beg  of  you  ;  when  anybody  asks  you  who  made  your  clothes, 
be  pleased  to  mention  John  Filby,  at  the  Harrow,  in  Water 
Lane."  :  'Why,  sir,'  cried  Johnson,  'that  was  because  he 
knew  the  strange  color  would  attract  crowds  to  gaze  at  it, 
and  thus  they  might  hear  of  him,  and  see  how  well  he  could 

25  make  a  coat  of  so  absurd  a  color.' " 

But  though  Goldsmith  might  permit  this  raillery  on  the 
part  of  his  friends,  he  was  quick  to  resent  any  personalities 
of  the  kind  from  strangers.  As  he  was  one  day  walking  the 
Strand  in  grand  array  with  bag-wig  and  sword,  he  excited 

30  the  merriment  of  two  coxcombs,  one  of  whom  called  to  the 
other  to  "  look  at  that  fly  with  a  long  pin  stuck  through  it." 
Stung  to  the  quick,  Goldsmith's  first  retort  was  to  caution 
the  passers-by  to  be  on  their  guard  against  "that  brace  of 
disguised  pickpockets,"-  — his  next  was  to  step  into  the 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCES  2OI 

middle  of  the  street,  where  there  was  room  for  action,  half- 
draw  his  sword,  and  beckon  the  joker,  who  was  armed  in 
like  manner,  to  follow  him.  This  was  literally  a  war  of  wit 
which  the  other  had  not  anticipated.  He  had  no  inclination 
to  push  the  joke  to  such  an  extreme,  but  abandoning  the  5 
ground,  sneaked  off  with  his  brother  wag  amid  the  hootings 
of  the  spectators. 

This  proneness  to  finery  in  dress,  however,  which  Boswell 
and  others  of  Goldsmith's  contemporaries,  who  did  not  under- 
stand the  secret  plies  of  his  character,  attributed  to  vanity,  10 
arose,  we  are  convinced,  from  a  widely  different  motive. 
It  was  from  a  painful  idea  of  his  own  personal  defects, 
which  had  been  cruelly  stamped  upon  his  mind  in  his  boy- 
hood, by  the  sneers  and  jeers  of  his  playmates,  and  had  been 
ground  deeper  into  it  by  rude  speeches  made  to  him  in  15 
every  step  of  his  struggling  career,  until  it  had  become  a 
constant  cause  of  awkwardness  and  embarrassment.  This 
he  had  experienced  the  more  sensibly  since  his  reputation 
had  elevated  him  into  polite  society ;  and  he  was  constantly 
endeavoring  by  the  aid  of  dress  to  acquire  that  personal  20 
acceptability,  if  we  may  use  the  phrase,  which  nature  had 
denied  him.  If  ever  he  betrayed  a  little  self-complacency 
on  first  turning  out  in  a  new  suit,  it  may,  perhaps,  have 
been  because  he  felt  as  if  he  had  achieved  a  triumph  over 
his  ugliness.  25 

There  were  circumstances  too,  about  the  time  of  which 
we  are  treating,  which  may  have  rendered  Goldsmith  more 
than  usually  attentive  to  his  personal  appearance.  He  had 
recently  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  most  agreeable  family 
from  Devonshire,  which  he  met  at  the  house  of  his  friend,  30 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  It  consisted  of  Mrs.  Horneck,  widow 
of  Captain  Kane  Horneck ;  two  daughters,  seventeen  and 
nineteen  years  of  age ;  and  an  only  son,  Charles,  the  Captain 
in  Lace,  as  his  sisters  playfully  and  somewhat  proudly  called 


202  OLIVER    GOLDSMITH 

him,  he  having  lately  entered  the  Guards.  The  daughters 
are  described  as  uncommonly  beautiful,  intelligent,  sprightly, 
and  agreeable.  Catharine,  the  eldest,  went  among  her  friends 
by  the  name  of  Little  Comedy,  indicative,  very  probably,  of 
5  her  disposition.  She  was  engaged  to  William  Henry  Bun- 
bury,  second  son  of  a  Suffolk  baronet.  The  hand  and  heart 
of  her  sister  Mary  were  yet  unengaged,  although  she  bore 
the  by-name  among  her  friends  of  the  Jessamy  Bride.  This 
family  was  prepared,  by  their  intimacy  with  Reynolds  and 

10  his  sister,  to  appreciate  the  merits  of  Goldsmith.  The  poet 
had  always  been  a  chosen  friend  of  the  eminent  painter; 
and  Miss  Reynolds,  as  we  have  shown,  ever  since  she  had 
heard  his  poem  of  "  The  Traveller  "  read  aloud,  had  ceased 
to  consider  him  ugly.  The  Hornecks  were  equally  capable  of 

15  forgetting  his  person  in  admiring  his  works.  On  becoming 
acquainted  with  him,  too,  they  were  delighted  with  his  guile- 
less simplicity,  his  buoyant  good-nature,  and  his  innate 
benevolence ;  and  an  enduring  intimacy  soon  sprang  up 
between  them.  For  once  poor  Goldsmith  had  met  with 

20  polite  society  with  which  he  was  perfectly  at  home,  and  by 
which  he  was  fully  appreciated ;  for  once  he  had  met  with 
lovely  women,  to  whom  his  ugly  features  were  not  repulsive. 
A  proof  of  the  easy  and  playful  terms  in  which  he  was  with 
them,  remains  in  a  whimsical  epistle  in  verse,  of  which  the 

25  following  was  the  occasion.  A  dinner  was  to  be  given  to 
their  family  by  a  Dr.  Baker,  a  friend  of  their  mother's,  at 
which  Reynolds  and  Angelica  Kauffman  were  to  be  present. 
The  young  ladies  were  eager  to  have  Goldsmith  of  the  party, 
and  their  intimacy  with  Dr.  Baker  allowing  them  to  take 

30  the  liberty,  they  wrote  a  joint  invitation  to  the  poet  at  the 
last  moment.  It  came  too  late,  and  drew  from  him  the 
following  reply  ;  on  the  top  of  which  was  scrawled,  "  This  is 
a  poem  !  This  is  a  copy  of  verses !  " 


A  RHYMING  EPISTLE  203 


"  Your  mandate  I  got, 
You  may  all  go  to  pot ; 
Had  your  senses  been  right, 
You  'd  have  sent  before  night : 
So  tell  Horneck  and  Nesbitt, 
And  Baker  and  his  bit, 
And  Kauffman  beside, 
And  the  Jessamy  Bride, 
With  the  rest  of  the  crew, 
The  Reynoldses  too, 


Little  Comedy's  face, 
And  the  Captain  in  Lace,  — 
Tell  each  other  to  rue 
Your  Devonshire  crew, 
For  sending  so  late 
To  one  of  my  state. 
But  't  is  Reynolds's  way 
From  wisdom  to  stray, 
And  Angelica's  whim 
To  befrolic  like  him ; 


But  alas  !  your  good  worships,  how  could  they  be  wiser, 
When  both  have  been  spoil'd  in  to-day's  '  Advertiser '  ? "  1 

It  has  been  intimated  that  the  intimacy  of  poor  Goldsmith 
with  the  Miss  Hornecks,  which  began  in  so  sprightly  a  vein, 
gradually  assumed  something  of  a  more  tender  nature,  and  15 
that  he  was  not  insensible  to  the  fascinations  of  the  younger 
sister.  This  may  account  for  some  of  the  phenomena  which 
about  this  time  appeared  in  his  wardrobe  and  toilet.  Dur- 
ing the  first  year  of  his  acquaintance  with  these  lovely  girls, 
the  tell-tale  book  of  his  tailor,  Mr.  William  Filby,  displays  20 
entries  of  four  or  five  fjill  suits,  besides  separate  articles  of 
dress.  Among  the  items  we  find  a  green  half-trimmed  frock 
and  breeches,  lined  with  silk;  a  queen 's-blue  dress  suit;  a 
half-dress  suit  of  ratteen,  lined  with  satin  ;  a  pair  of  silk 
stocking-breeches,  and  another  pair  of  a  bloom-color.  Alas  !  25 

i  The  following  lines  had  appeared  in  that  day's  "  Advertiser,"  on  the  portrait 
of  Sir  Joshua  by  Angelica  Kauffman :  — 

"  While  fair  Angelica,  with  matchless  grace, 
Paints  Conway's  burly  form  and  Stanhope's  face ; 
Our  hearts  to  beauty  willing  homage  pay, 
We  praise,  admire,  and  gaze  our  souls  away. 
But  when  the  likeness  she  hath  done  for  thee, 
O  Reynolds  !  with  astonishment  we  see, 
Forced  to  submit,  with  all  our  pride  we  own, 
Such  strength,  such  harmony  excelled  by  none, 
And  thou  art  rivalled  by  thyself  alone." 


204  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

poor  Goldsmith  !  how  much  of  this  silken  finery  was  dictated, 
not  by  vanity,  but  humble  consciousness  of  thy  defects ; 
how  much  of  it  was  to  atone  for  the  uncouthness  of  thy 
person,  and  to  win  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  Jessamy  Bride  ! 


TOPICS   AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Goldsmith's  fondness  for  odd  clothes. 

2.  The  story  of  Goldsmith  and  the  Jessamy  Bride.     What  recent 
writer  of  fiction  has  made  this  love  story  the  theme  of  a  novel  ? 

3.  Irving  as  an  apologist  for  Goldsmith's  shortcomings.     [Compare 
question  4,  Chapter  XVIII.] 

4.  Give  an  account  of    Boswell's   dinner  to  his   friends  on    Octo- 
ber 1 6,  1768. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

Goldsmith  in  the  Temple  —  Judge  Day  and  Grattan  —  Labor  and  Dissipation 
—  Publication  of  the  Roman  History;  Opinions  of  it  —  "History  of  Ani- 
mated Nature  "  —  Temple  Rookery  —  Anecdotes  of  a  Spider. 

In  the  winter  of  1768-69  Goldsmith  occupied  himself  at 
his  quarters  in  the  Temple,  slowly  "  building  up  "  his  Roman 
History.  We  have  pleasant  views  of  him  in  this  learned  and 
half-cloistered  retreat  of  wits  and  lawyers  and  legal  students, 
in  the  reminiscences  of  Judge  Day  of  the  Irish  Bench,  who  5 
in  his  advanced  age  delighted  to  recall  the  days  of  his  youth, 
when  he  was  a  templar,  and  to  speak  of  the  kindness  with 
which  he  and  his  fellow-student,  Grattan,  were  treated  by 
the  poet.  "  I  was  just  arrived  from  college,"  said  he,  "  full 
freighted  with  academic  gleanings,  and  our  author  did  not  10 
disdain  to  receive  from  me  some  opinions  and  hints  towards 
his  Greek  and  Roman  histories.  Being  then  a  young  man, 
I  felt  much  flattered  by  the  notice  of  so  celebrated  a  person. 
He  took  great  delight  in  the  conversation  of  Grattan,  whose 
brilliancy  in  the  morning  of  life  furnished  full  earnest  of  the  15 
unrivalled  splendor  which  awaited  his  meridian  ;  and  finding 
us  dwelling  together  in  Essex  Court,  near  himself,  where  he 
frequently  visited  my  immortal  friend,  his  warm  heart  became 
naturally  prepossessed  towards  the  associate  of  one  whom 
he  so  much  admired."  20 

The  Judge  goes  on,  in  his  reminiscences,  to  give  a  picture 
of  Goldsmith's  social  habits,  similar  in  style  to  those  already 
furnished.  He  frequented  much  the  Grecian  Coffee-House, 
then  the  favorite  resort  of  the  Irish  and  Lancashire  Tem- 
plars. He  delighted  in  collecting  his  friends  around  him  25 
at  evening  parties  at  his  chambers,  where  he  entertained 

205 


206  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

them  with  a  cordial  and  unostentatious  hospitality.  "  Occa- 
sionally," adds  the  Judge,  "  he  amused  them  with  his  flute, 
or  with  whist,  neither  of  which  he  played  well,  particularly 
the  latter,  but,  on  losing  his  money,  he  never  lost  his  temper. 
5  In  a  run  of  bad  luck  and  worse  play,  he  would  fling  his  cards 
upon  the  floor  and  exclaim,  'Byefore  George,  I  ought  forever 
to  renounce  thee,  fickle,  faithless  fortune.' " 

The  Judge  was  aware,  at  the  time,  that  all  the  learned 
labor  of  poor  Goldsmith  upon  his  Roman  History  was  mere 

10  hack-work  to  recruit  his  exhausted  finances.  "  His  purse 
replenished,"  adds  he,  "by  labors  of  this  kind,  the  season 
of  relaxation  and  pleasure  took  its  turn,  in  attending  the 
theatres,  Ranelagh,  Vauxhall,  and  other  scenes  of  gayety 
and  amusement.  Whenever  his  funds  were  dissipated,  — 

15  and  they  fled  more  rapidly  from  being  the  dupe  of  many 
artful  persons,  male  and  female,  who  practised  upon  his 
benevolence,  —  he  returned  to  his  literary  labors,  and  shut 
himself  up  from  society  to  provide  fresh  matter  for  his  book- 
seller, and  fresh  supplies  for  himself." 

20      How  completely  had  the  young  student  discerned  the  char- 
acteristics of  poor,  genial,  generous,  drudging,  holiday-loving 
Goldsmith  ;  toiling,  that  he  might  play  ;  earning  his  bread  by 
the  sweat  of  his  brains,  and  then  throwing  it  out  of  the  window. 
The  Roman  History  was  published  in  the  middle  of  May, 

25  in  two  volumes  of  five  hundred  pages  each.  It  was  brought 
out  without  parade  or  pretension,  and  was  announced  as  for 
the  use  of  schools  and  colleges ;  but,  though  a  work  written 
for  bread,  not  fame,  such  is  its  ease,  perspicuity,  good  sense, 
and  the  delightful  simplicity  of  its  style,  that  it  was  well 

30  received  by  the  critics,  commanded  a  prompt  and  exten- 
sive sale,  and  has  ever  since  remained  in  the  hands  of  young 
and  old. 

Johnson,  who,  as  we  have  before  remarked,  rarely  praised 
pr  dispraised  things  by  halves,  broke  forth  in  a  warm  eulogy 


ROMAN   HISTORY  207 

of  the  author  and  the  work,  in  a  conversation  with  Boswell, 
to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  latter.  "  Whether  we  take 
Goldsmith,"  said  he,  "as  a  poet,  as  a  comic  writer,  or  as 
an  historian,  he  stands  in  the  first  class."  Boswell.  —  "  An 
historian  !  My  dear  sir,  you  surely  will  not  rank  his  compila-  5 
tion  of  the  Roman  History  with  the  works  of  other  historians 
of  this  age."  Johnson.  —  "Why,  who  are  before  him?" 
Boswell.  —  "  Hume  —  Robertson  —  Lord  Lyttelton."  John- 
son (his  antipathy  against  the  Scotch  beginning  to  rise). — 
"  I  have  not  read  Hume  ;  but  doubtless  Goldsmith's  History  10 
is  better  than  the  verbiage  of  Robertson,  or  the  foppery  of 
Dalrymple."  Boswell.  —  "  Will  you  not  admit  the  superiority 
of  Robertson,  in  whose  history  we  find  such  penetration,  such 
painting  ?  "  Johnson.  —  "  Sir,  you  must  consider  how  that 
penetration  and  that  painting  are  employed.  It  is  not  his-  15 
tory,  it  is  imagination.  He  who  describes  what  he  never  saw, 
draws  from  fancy.  Robertson  paints  minds  as  Sir  Joshua 
paints  faces,  in  a  history-piece ;  he  imagines  an  heroic  coun- 
tenance. You  must  look  upon  Robertson's  work  as  romance, 
and  try  it  by  that  standard.  History  it  is  not.  Besides,  sir,  20 
it  is  the  great  excellence  of  a  writer  to  put  into  his  book  as 
much  as  his  book  will  hold.  Goldsmith  has  done  this  in  his 
History.  Now  Robertson  might  have  put  twice  as  much  in 
his  book.  Robertson  is  like  a  man  who  has  packed  gold  in 
wool ;  the  wool  takes  up  more  room  than  the  gold.  No,  sir,  25 
I  always  thought  Robertson  would  be  crushed  with  his  own 
weight  —  would  be  buried  under  his  own  ornaments.  Gold- 
smith tells  you  shortly  all  you  want  to  know ;  Robertson 
detains  you  a  great  deal  too  long.  No  man  will  read  Robert- 
son's cumbrous  detail  a  second  time;  but  Goldsmith's  plain  30 
narrative  will  please  again  and  again.  I  would  say  to  Robert- 
son what  an  old  tutor  of  a  college  said  to  one  of  his  pupils, 
'  Read  over  your  compositions,  and  whenever  you  meet  with 
a  passage  which  you  think  is  particularly  fine,  strike  it  out  1 ' 


208  OLIVER    GOLDSMITH 

Goldsmith's  abridgment  is  better  than  that  of  Lucius  Florus 
or  Eutropius ;  and  I  will  venture  to  say,  that,  if  you  compare 
him  with  Vertot  in  the  same  places  of  the  Roman  History, 
you  will  find  that  he  excels  Vertot.  Sir,  he  has  the  art  of 
5  compiling,  and  of  saying  everything  he  has  to  say  in  a  pleas- 
ing manner.  He  is  now  writing  a  Natural  History,  and  will 
make  it  as  entertaining  as  a  Persian  tale." 

The  Natural  History  to  which  Johnson  alluded  was  the 
"  History  of  Animated  Nature,"  which  Goldsmith  commenced 

10  in  1769,  under  an  engagement  with  Griffin,  the  bookseller, 
to  complete  it  as  soon  as  possible  in  eight  volumes,  each 
containing  upwards  of  four  hundred  pages,  in  pica ;  a  hun- 
dred guineas  to  be  paid  to  the  author  on  the  delivery  of  each 
volume  in  manuscript. 

15  He  was  induced  to  engage  in  this  work  by  the  urgent 
solicitations  of  the  booksellers,  who  had  been  struck  by  the 
sterling  merits  and  captivating  style  of  an  introduction  which 
he  wrote  to  Brookes's  "  Natural  History."  It  was  Gold- 
smith's intention  originally  to  make  a  translation  of  Pliny, 

20  with  a  popular  commentary ;  but  the  appearance  of  Buffon's 
work  induced  him  to  change  his  plan,  and  make  use  of  that 
author  for  a  guide  and  model. 

Cumberland,  speaking  of  this  work,  observes :  "  Distress 
drove  Goldsmith  upon  undertakings  neither  congenial  with 

25  his  studies  nor  worthy  of  his  talents.  I  remember  him  when, 
in  his  chambers  in  the  Temple,  he  showed  me  the  beginning 
of  his  '  Animated  Nature  ' ;  it  was  with  a  sigh,  such  as  genius 
draws  when  hard  necessity  diverts  it  from  its  bent  to  drudge 
for  bread,  and  talk  of  birds,  and  beasts,  and  creeping  things, 

30  which  Pidock's  showman  would  have  done  as  well.  Poor 
fellow,  he  hardly  knows  an  ass  from  a  mule,  nor  a  turkey 
from  a  goose,  but  when  he  sees  it  on  the  table." 

Others  of  Goldsmith's  friends  entertained   similar  ideas 
with  respect  to  his  fitness  for  the  task,  and  they  were  apt 


•HISTORY   OF  ANIMATED   NATURE"         209 

now  and  then  to  banter  him  on  the  subject,  and  to  amuse 
themselves  with  his  easy  credulity.  The  custom  among  the 
natives  of  Otaheite  of  eating  dogs  being  once  mentioned  in 
company,  Goldsmith  observed  that  a  similar  custom  pre- 
vailed in  China ;  that  a  dog-butcher  is  as  common  there  as  5 
any  other  butcher ;  and  that,  when  he  walks  abroad,  all  the 
dogs  fall  on  him.  Johnson.  —  "  That  is  not  owing  to  his 
killing  dogs  ;  sir,  I  remember  a  butcher  at  Litchfield,  whom 
a  dog  that  was  in  the  house  where  I  lived  always  attacked. 
It  is  the  smell  of  carnage  which  provokes  this,  let  the  ani-  10 
mals  he  has  killed  be  what  they  may."  Goldsmith.  —  "Yes, 
there  is  a  general  abhorrence  in  animals  at  the  signs  of 
massacre.  If  you  put  a  tub  full  of  blood  into  a  stable,  the 
horses  are  likely  to  go  mad."  Johnson.  —  "I  doubt  that." 
Goldsmith.  —  "Nay,  sir,  it  is  a  fact  well  authenticated."  15 
Thrale.  —  "  You  had  better  prove  it  before  you  put  it  into 
your  book  on  Natural  History.  You  may  do  it  in  my  stable 
if  you  will."  Johnson. —  "Nay,  sir,  I  would  not  have  him 
prove  it.  If  he  is  content  to  take  his  information  from  others, 
he  may  get  through  his  book  with  little  trouble,  and  without  20 
much  endangering  his  reputation.  But  if  he  makes  experi- 
ments for  so  comprehensive  a  book  as  his,  there  would  be 
no  end  to  them ;  his  erroneous  assertions  would  fall  then 
upon  himself ;  and  he  might  be  blamed  for  not  having  made 
experiments  as  to  every  particular."  25 

Johnson's  original  prediction,  however,  with  respect  to 
this  work,  that  Goldsmith  would  make  it  as  entertaining  as 
a  Persian  tale,  was  verified  ;  and  though  much  of  it  was 
borrowed  from  Buffon,  and  but  little  of  it  written  from  his 
own  observation,  —  though  it  was  by  no  means  profound,  30 
and  was  chargeable  with  many  errors,  yet  the  charms  of  his 
style  and  the  play  of  his  happy  disposition  throughout  have 
continued  to  render  it  far  more  popular  and  readable  than 
many  works  on  the  subject  of  much  greater  scope  and 


210  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

science.  Cumberland  was  mistaken,  however,  in  his  notion 
of  Goldsmith's  ignorance  and  lack  of  observation  as  to 
the  characteristics  of  animals.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  a 
minute  and  shrewd  observer  of  them ;  but  he  observed 
5  them  with  the  eye  of  a  poet  and  moralist  as  well  as  a 
naturalist.  We  quote  two  passages  from  his  works  illus- 
trative of  this  fact,  and  we  do  so  the  more  readily  because 
they  are  in  a  manner  a  part  of  his  history,  and  give  us 
another  peep  into  his  private  life  in  the  Temple,  —  of  his 

10  mode  of  occupying  himself  in  his  lonely  and  apparently  idle 
moments,  and  of  another  class  of  acquaintances  which  he 
made  there. 

Speaking  in  his  "Animated  Nature"  of  the  habitudes 
of  Rooks,  "I  have  often  amused  myself,"  says  he,  "with 

15  observing  their  plans  of  policy  from  my  window  in  the 
Temple,  that  looks  upon  a  grove,  where  they  have  made  a 
colony  in  the  midst  of  a  city.  At  the  commencement  of 
spring  the  rookery,  which  during  the  continuance  of  winter 
seemed  to  have  been  deserted,  or  only  guarded  by  about 

20  five  or  six,  like  old  soldiers  in  a  garrison,  now  begins  to  be 
once  more  frequented,  and  in  a  short  time  all  the  bustle  and 
hurry  of  business  will  be  fairly  commenced." 

The  other  passage,  which  we  take  the  liberty  to  quote  at 
some  length,  is  from  an  admirable  paper  in  the  "  Bee,"  and 

25  relates  to  the  House-Spider. 

"Of  all  the  solitary  insects  I  have  ever  remarked,  the 
spider  is  the  most  sagacious,  and  its  motions  to  me,  who 
have  attentively  considered  them,  seem  almost  to  exceed 
belief.  ...  I  perceived,  about  four  years  ago,  a  large 

30  spider  in  one  corner  of  my  room  making  its  web;  and, 
though  the  maid  frequently  levelled  her  broom  against  the 
labors  of  the  little  animal,  I  had  the  good  fortune  then  to 
prevent  its  destruction,  and  I  may  say  it  more  than  paid  me 
by  the  entertainment  it  afforded. 


ANECDOTES   OF  A  SPIDER  211 

"  In  three  days  the  web  was,  with  incredible  diligence, 
completed ;  nor  could  I  avoid  thinking  that  the  insect  seemed 
to  exult  in  its  new  abode.  It  frequently  traversed  it  round, 
examined  the  strength  of  every  part  of  it,  retired  into  its 
hole,  and  came  out  very  frequently.  The  first  enemy,  how-  5 
ever,  it  had  to  encounter  was  another  and  a  much  larger 
spider,  which,  having  no  web  of  its  own,  and  having  proba- 
bly exhausted  all  its  stock  in  former  labors  of  this  kind, 
came  to  invade  the  property  of  its  neighbor.  Soon,  then,  a 
terrible  encounter  ensued,  in  which  the  invader  seemed  to  ro 
have  the  victory,  and  the  laborious  spider  was  obliged  to 
take  refuge  in  its  hole.  Upon  this  I  perceived  the  victor 
using  every  art  to  draw  the  enemy  from  its  stronghold.  He 
seemed  to  go  off,  but  quickly  returned ;  and  when  he  found 
all  arts  in  vain,  began  to  demolish  the  new  web  without  15 
mercy.  This  brought  on  another  battle,  and,  contrary  to  my 
expectations,  the  laborious  spider  became  conqueror,  and 
fairly  killed  his  antagonist. 

"  Now,  then,  in  peaceable  possession  of  what  was  justly 
its  own,  it  waited  three  days  with  the  utmost  impatience,  20 
repairing  the  breaches  of  its  web,  and  taking  no  sustenance 
that  I  could  perceive.  At  last,  however,  a  large  blue  fly  fell 
into  the  snare,  and  struggled  hard  to  get  loose.  The  spider 
gave  it  leave  to  entangle  itself  as  much  as  possible,  but  it 
seemed  to  be  too  strong  for  the  cobweb.  I  must  own  I  was  25 
greatly  surprised  when  I  saw  the  spider  immediately  sally 
out,  and  in  less  than  a  minute  weave  a  new  net  round  its 
captive,  by  which  the  motion  of  its  wings  was  stopped  ;  and, 
when  it  was  fairly  hampered  in  this  manner,  it  was  seized 
and  dragged  into  the  hole.  30 

"  In  this  manner  it  lived,  in  a  precarious  state ;  and 
Nature  seemed  to  have  fitted  it  for  such  a  life,  for  upon  a 
single  fly  it  subsisted  for  more  than  a  week.  I  once  put 
a  wasp  into  the  net ;  but  when  the  spider  came  out  in  order 


212  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

to  seize  it  as  usual,  upon  perceiving  what  kind  of  an  enemy 
it  had  to  deal  with,  it  instantly  broke  all  the  bands  that  held 
it  fast,  and  contributed  all  that  lay  in  its  power  to  disengage 
so  formidable  an  antagonist.  When  the  wasp  was  set  at 
5  liberty,  I  expected  the  spider  would  have  set  about  repairing 
the  breaches  that  were  made  in  its  net ;  but  those,  it  seems, 
were  irreparable ;  wherefore  the  cobweb  was  now  entirely 
forsaken,  and  a  new  one  begun,  which  was  completed  in  the 
usual  time. 

10  "  I  had  now  a  mind  to  try  how  many  cobwebs  a  single 
spider  could  furnish  ;  wherefore  I  destroyed  this,  and  the 
insect  set  about  another.  When  I  destroyed  the  other  also, 
its  whole  stock  seemed  entirely  exhausted,  and  it  could  spin 
no  more.  The  arts  it  made  use  of  to  support  itself,  now 

15  deprived  of  its  great  means  of  subsistence,  were  indeed  sur- 
prising. I  have  seen  it  roll  up  its  legs  like  a  ball,  and  lie 
motionless  for  hours  together,  but  cautiously  watching  all 
the  time ;  when  a  fly  happened  to  approach  sufficiently  near, 
it  would  dart  out  all  at  once,  and  often  seize  its  prey. 

20  "  Of  this  life,  however,  it  soon  began  to  grow  weary,  and 
resolved  to  invade  the  possession  of  some  other  spider,  since 
it  could  not  make  a  web  of  its  own.  It  formed  an  attack 
upon  a  neighboring  fortification  with  great  vigor,  and  at 
first  was  as  vigorously  repulsed.  Not  daunted,  however, 

25  with  one  defeat,  in  this  manner  it  continued  to  lay  siege  to 
another's  web  for  three  days,  and  at  length,  having  killed 
the  defendant,  actually  took  possession.  When  smaller  flies 
happen  to  fall  into  the  snare,  the  spider  does  not  sally  out 
at  once,  but  very  patiently  waits  till  it  is  sure  of  them  ;  for, 

30  upon  his  immediately  approaching,  the  terror  of  his  appear- 
ance might  give  the  captive  strength  sufficient  to  get  loose ; 
the  manner,  then,  is  to  wait  patiently,  till,  by  ineffectual  and 
impotent  struggles,  the  captive  has  wasted  all  its  strength, 
and  then  he  becomes  a  certain  and  easy  conquest. 


ANECDOTES   OF  A  SPIDER  213 

"  The  insect  I  am  now  describing  lived  three  years ; 
every  year  it  changed  its  skin  and  got  a  new  set  of  legs. 
I  have  sometimes  plucked  off  a  leg,  which  grew  again  in 
two  or  three  days.  At  first  it  dreaded  my  approach  to  its 
web,  but  at  last  it  became  so  familiar  as  to  take  a  fly  out 
of  my  hand  ;  and,  upon  my  touching  any  part  of  the  web, 
would  immediately  leave  its  hole,  prepared  either  for  a 
defence  or  an  attack." 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  What  was  a  Templar  in  the  time  of  Goldsmith?     In  the  time  of 
Richard   the    Lion-Hearted  ?     Is   the    term    used  now  in    the    United 
States  ? 

2.  How  many  adjectives  can  be  applied  to  Goldsmith  in  describing 
his  character  ? 

3.  Was  the  tutor's  advice  to  one  of  his  pupils  sound  ? 

4.  By   observation  verify    Goldsmith's   remarks   about   the   spider. 
[Find  out  from  your  science  teacher  whether  Goldsmith's  paper  in  the 
"  Bee  "  regarding  the  House-Spider  is  scientifically  accurate.] 

5.  Write  a  short  essay  on  Vauxhall. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Honors  at  the  Royal  Academy  —  Letter  to  his  Brother  Maurice  —  Family  For- 
tunes—  Jane  Contarine  and  the  Miniature  —  Portraits  and  Engravings 
—  School  Associations  —  Johnson  and  Goldsmith  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

The  latter  part  of  the  year  1768  had  been  made  memo- 
rable in  the  world  of  taste  by  the  institution  of  the  Royal 
Academy  of  Arts,  under  the  patronage  of  the  King,  and  the 
direction  of  forty  of  the  most  distinguished  artists.  Reyn- 
5  olds,  who  had  been  mainly  instrumental  in  founding  it, 
had  been  unanimously  elected  president,  and  had  thereupon 
received  the  honor  of  knighthood.1  Johnson  was  so  de- 
lighted with  his  friend's  elevation,  that  he  broke  through  a 
rule  of  total  abstinence  with  respect  to  wine,  which  he  had 

10  maintained  for  several  years,  and  drank  bumpers  on  the 
occasion.  Sir  Joshua  eagerly  sought  to  associate  his  old  and 
valued  friends  with  him  in  his  new  honors,  and  it  is  sup- 
posed to  be  through  his  suggestions  that,  on  the  first  estab- 
lishment of  professorships,  which  took  place  in  December, 

15  1769,  Johnson  was  nominated  to  that  of  Ancient  Literature, 
and  Goldsmith  to  that  of  History.  They  were  mere  honor- 
ary titles,  without  emolument,  but  gave  distinction,  from 
the  noble  institution  to  which  they  appertained.  They  also 
gave  the  possessors  honorable  places  at  the  annual  banquet, 

20  at  which  were  assembled  many  of  the  most  distinguished 
persons  of  rank  and  talent,  all  proud  to  be  classed  among 
the  patrons  of  the  arts. 

1  We  must  apologize  for  the  anachronism  we  have  permitted  ourselves  in  the 
course  of  this  memoir,  in  speaking  of  Reynolds  as  Sir  Joshua,  when  treating  of 
circumstances  which  occurred  prior  to  his  being  dubbed ;  but  it  is  so  customary 
to  speak  of  him  by  that  title,  that  we  found  it  difficult  to  dispense  with  it. 

214 


LETTER  TO   HIS   BROTHER  MAURICE        215 

The  following  letter  of  Goldsmith  to  his  brother  alludes 
to  the  foregoing  appointment,  and  to  a  small  legacy  be- 
queathed to  him  by  his  uncle  Contarine. 

"  To  Mr.  Maurice   Goldsmith,  at  James  La-wricks,  Esq.,   at 

Kilmore,  near  Carrick-on- Shannon.  5 

"January,  1770. 

"  DEAR  BROTHER,  —  I  should  have  answered  your  letter 
sooner,  but,  in  truth,  I  am  not  fond  of  thinking  of  the 
necessities  of  those  I  love,  when  it  is  so  very  little  in  my 
power  to  help  them.  I  am  sorry  to  find  you  are  every  way  10 
unprovided  for ;  and  what  adds  to  my  uneasiness  is,  that 
I  have  received  a  letter  from  my  sister  Johnson,  by  which  I 
learn  that  she  is  pretty  much  in  the  same  circumstances. 
As  to  myself,  I  believe  I  think  I  could  get  both  you  and  my 
poor  brother-in-law  something  like  that  which  you  desire,  15 
but  I  am  determined  never  to  ask  for  little  things,  nor 
exhaust  any  little  interest  I  may  have,  until  I  can  serve 
you,  him,  and  myself  more  effectually.  As  yet,  no  oppor- 
tunity has  offered  ;  but  I  believe  you  are  pretty  well  con- 
vinced that  I  will  not  be  remiss  when  it  arrives.  20 

"The  King  has  lately  been  pleased  to  make  me  professor 
of  Ancient  History  in  the  royal  academy  of  painting  which 
he  has  just  established,  but  there  is  no  salary  annexed  ;  and 
I  took  it  rather  as  a  compliment  to  the  Institution  than  any 
benefit  to  myself.  Honors  to  one  in  my  situation  are  some-  25 
thing  like  ruffles  to  one  that  wants  a  shirt. 

"  You  tell  me  that  there  are  fourteen  or  fifteen  pounds 
left  me  in  the  hands  of  my  cousin  Lawder,  and  you  ask  me 
what  I  would  have  done  with  them.  My  dear  brother,  I 
would  by  no  means  give  any  directions  to  my  dear  worthy  30 
relations  at  Kilmore  how  to  dispose  of  money  which  is, 
properly  speaking,  more  theirs  than  mine.  All  that  I  can 
say  is,  that  I  entirely,  and  this  letter  will  serve  to  witness, 


216  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

give  up  any  right  and  title  to  it ;  and  I  am  sure  they  will 
dispose  of  it  to  the  best  advantage.  To  them  I  entirely 
leave  it;  whether  they  or  you  may  think  the  whole  neces- 
sary to  fit  you  out,  or  whether  our  poor  sister  Johnson  may 
5  not  want  the  half,  I  leave  entirely  to  their  and  your  discre- 
tion. The  kindness  of  that  good  couple  to  our  shattered 
family  demands  our  sincerest  gratitude;  and,  though  they 
have  almost  forgotten  me,  yet,  if  good  things  at  last  arrive, 
I  hope  one  day  to  return  and  increase  their  good-humor  by 

10  adding  to  my  own. 

"  I  have  sent  my  cousin  Jenny  a  miniature  picture  of 
myself,  as  I  believe  it  is  the  most  acceptable  present  I  can 
offer.  I  have  ordered  it  to  be  left  for  her  at  George  Faulk- 
ner's, folded  in  a  letter.  The  face,  you  well  know,  is  ugly 

15  enough,  but  it  is  finely  painted.  I  will  shortly  also  send 
my  friends  over  the  Shannon  some  mezzotinto  prints  of 
myself,  and  some  more  of  my  friends  here,  such  as  Burke, 
Johnson,  Reynolds,  and  Colman.  I  believe  I  have  written 
a  hundred  letters  to  different  friends  in  your  country, 

20  and  never  received  an  answer  to  any  of  them.  I  do  not 
know  how  to  account  for  this,  or  why  they  are  unwilling 
to  keep  up  for  me  those  regards  which  I  must  ever  retain 
for  them. 

"  If,  then,  you  have  a  mind  to  oblige  me,  you  will  write 

25  often,  whether  I  answer  you  or  not.  Let  me  particularly 
have  the  news  of  our  family  and  old  acquaintances.  For 
instance,  you  may  begin  by  telling  me  about  the  family 
where  you  reside,  how  they  spend  their  time,  and  whether 
they  ever  make  mention  of  me.  Tell  me  about  my  mother, 

30  my  brother  Hodson  and  his  son,  my  brother  Harry's  son 
and  daughter,  my  sister  Johnson,  the  family  of  Ballyoughter, 
what  is  become  of  them,  where  they  live,  and  how  they  do. 
You  talked  of  being  my  only  brother :  I  don't  understand 
you.  Where  is  Charles  ?  A  sheet  of  paper  occasionally 


A  SHATTERED    FAMILY 

filled  with  the  news  of  this  kind  would  make  me  very  happy, 
and  would  keep  you  nearer  my  mind.  As  it  is,  my  dear 
brother,  believe  me  to  be  Yours  most  affectionately, 

"OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

By  this  letter  we  find  the  Goldsmiths  the  same  shifting,    5 
shiftless  race  as  formerly  ;  a  "  shattered  family,"  scrambling 
on  each  other's  back  as  soon  as  any  rise  above  the  surface. 
Maurice  is  "  every  way  unprovided  for  "  ;  living  upon  cousin 
Jane  and  her  husband ;  and,  perhaps,  amusing  himself  by 
hunting  otter  in  the  river  Inny.     Sister  Johnson   and  her  10 
husband  are  as  poorly  off  as  Maurice,  with,  perhaps,  no  one 
at  hand  to  quarter  themselves  upon  ;  as  to  the  rest,  "  what 
is  become  of  them  ?  where  do  they  live  ?  and  how  do  they 
do  ?  what  has   become  of    Charles  ? "     What  forlorn  hap- 
hazard life  is  implied  by  these  questions  !     Can  we  wonder  15 
that,  with  all  the  love  for  his  native  place,  which  is  shown 
throughout  Goldsmith's  writings,  he  had  not  the  heart  to 
return  there  ?     Yet  his  affections  are  still  there.     He  wishes 
to  know  whether  the    Lawders   (which   means    his  cousin 
Jane,  his  early  Valentine)  ever  made  mention  of  him ;  he  20 
sends   Jane   his   miniature ;   he    believes   "  it   is   the   most 
acceptable  present  he  can  offer " ;  he  evidently,  therefore, 
does  not  believe  she  has  almost  forgotten  him,  although  he 
intimates  that   he  does :  in  his   memory  she  is  still  Jane 
Contarine,  as  he  last  saw  her,  when  he  accompanied  her  25 
harpsichord  with  his  flute.     Absence,  like  death,  sets  a  seal 
on  the  image  of  those  we  have  loved;  we  cannot  realize  the 
intervening  changes  which  time  may  have  effected. 

As  to  the  rest  of  Goldsmith's  relatives,  he  abandons  his 
legacy  of  fifteen  pounds,  to  be  shared  among  them.     It  is  30 
all  he  has  to  give.     His  heedless  improvidence  is  eating  up 
the  pay  of  the  booksellers  in  advance.     With  all  his  literary 
success,  he  has  neither  money  nor  influence ;   but  he  has 


2l8  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

empty  fame,  and  he  is  ready  to  participate  with  them  ;  he 
is  honorary  professor,  without  pay ;  his  portrait  is  to  be 
engraved  in  mezzotint,  in  company  with  those  of  his  friends, 
Burke,  Reynolds,  Johnson,  Colman,  and  others,  and  he  will 
5  send  prints  of  them  to  his  friends  over  the  Channel,  though 
they  may  not  have  a  house  to  hang  them  up  in.  What  a 
motley  letter !  How  indicative  of  the  motley  character  of 
the  writer  !  By  the  by,  the  publication  of  a  splendid  mezzo- 
tinto  engraving  of  his  likeness  by  Reynolds  was  a  great 

10  matter  of  glorification  to  Goldsmith,  especially  as  it  appeared 
in  such  illustrious  company.  As  he  was  one  day  walking 
the  streets  in  a  state  of  high  elation,  from  having  just  seen 
it  figuring  in  the  print-shop  windows,  he  met  a  young  gentle- 
man with  a  newly  married  wife  hanging  on  his  arm,  whom 

15  he  immediately  recognized  for  Master  Bishop,  one  of  the 
boys  he  had  petted  and  treated  with  sweetmeats  when  a 
humble  usher  at  Milner's  school.  The  kindly  feelings  of 
old  times  revived,  and  he  accosted  him  with  cordial  famil- 
iarity, though  the  youth  may  have  found  some  difficulty  in 

20  recognizing  in  the  personage,  arrayed,  perhaps,  in  garments 
of  Tyrian  dye,  the  dingy  pedagogue  of  the  Milners.  "  Come, 
my  boy,"  cried  Goldsmith,  as  if  still  speaking  to  a  school- 
boy, — "  come,  Sam,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you.  I  must 
treat  you  to  something  —  what  shall  it  be?  Will  you  have 

25  some  apples  ? "  glancing  at  an  old  woman's  stall ;  then, 
recollecting  the  print-shop  window  :  "  Sam,"  said  he,  "  have 
you  seen  my  picture  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  ?  Have  you 
seen  it,  Sam  ?  Have  you  got  an  engraving  ?  "  Bishop  was 
caught ;  he  equivocated ;  he  had  not  yet  bought  it ;  but  he 

30  was  furnishing  his  house,  and  had  fixed  upon  the  place 
where  it  was  to  be  hung.  "  Ah,  Sam  !  "  rejoined  Goldsmith 
reproachfully,  "  if  your  picture  had  been  published,  I  should 
not  have  waited  an  hour  without  having  it." 


PORTRAITS  AND  ENGRAVINGS  219 

After  all,  it  was  honest  pride,  not  vanity,  in  Goldsmith, 
that  was  gratified  at  seeing  his  portrait  deemed  worthy  of 
being  perpetuated  by  the  classic  pencil  of  Reynolds,  and 
"  hung  up  in  history  "  beside  that  of  his  revered  friend  John- 
son. Even  the  great  moralist  himself  was  not  insensible  to  5 
a  feeling  of  this  kind.  Walking  one  day  with  Goldsmith, 
in  Westminster  Abbey,  among  the  tombs  of  monarchs,  war- 
riors, and  statesmen,  they  came  to  the  sculptured  mementos 
of  literary  worthies  in  poets'  corner.  Casting  his  eye  round 
upon  these  memorials  of  genius,  Johnson  muttered  in  a  low  10 
tone  to  his  companion,  — 

"  Forsitan  et  nostrum  nomen  miscebitur  istis." 

Goldsmith  treasured  up  the  intimated  hope,  and  shortly  after- 
wards, as  they  were  passing  by  Temple  Bar,  where  the  heads 
of  Jacobite  rebels,  executed  for  treason,  were  mouldering  15 
aloft  on  spikes,  pointed  up  to  the  grizzly  mementos,  and 
echoed  the  intimation, 

" Forsitan  et  nostrum  nomen  miscebitur  istis" 


TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Character  of  the  Goldsmiths  as  presented  in  Oliver's  letter  to 
Maurice. 

2.  Was  it  honest  pride  or  vanity  that  made  Goldsmith  glad  to  have 
Reynolds  paint  his  portrait  ?   What  are  the  most  striking  characteristics 
of  this  portrait  ?     [See  frontispiece.] 

3.  When  was  Joshua  Reynolds  knighted  ? 

4.  Describe  the  poets'  corner  in  Westminster  Abbey.     [See  diagram 
of  the  Abbey  in  Karl  Baedeker's  "  London  and  Its  Environs,"  §  19.    On 
the  numerous  maps  of  London  in  Baedeker's  guide-book  will  be  found 
most  of  the  places  referred  to  in  Irving's  "  Life  of  Goldsmith."] 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

Publication  of  the  "  Deserted  Village  " ;  Notices  and  Illustrations  of  it. 

Several  years  had  now  elapsed  since  the  publication  of 

.  "  The  Traveller,"  and  much  wonder  was  expressed  that  the 

great  success  of  that  poem  had  not  excited  the  author  to 

further  poetic  attempts.     On  being  questioned  at  the  annual 

5  dinner  of  the  Royal  Academy  by  the  Earl  of  Lisburn,  why 

he  neglected  the  Muses  to  compile  histories  and  write  novels, 

"  My  Lord,"  replied  he,  "  by  courting  the  Muses  I  shall  starve, 

but  by  my  other  labors  I  eat,  drink,  have  good  clothes,  and 

can  enjoy  the  luxuries  of  life."     So,  also,  on  being  asked  by 

ro  a  poor  writer  what  was  the  most  profitable  mode  of  exercising 
the  pen,  —  "  My  dear  fellow,"  replied  he,  good-humoredly, 
"  pay  no  regard  to  the  draggle-tailed  Muses ;  for  my  part  I 
have  found  productions  in  prose  much  more  sought  after 
and  better  paid  for." 

15  Still,  however,  as  we  have  heretofore  shown,  he  found 
sweet  moments  of  dalliance  to  steal  away  from  his  prosaic 
toils,  and  court  the  Muse  among  the  green  lanes  and  hedge- 
rows in  the  rural  environs  of  London,  and  on  the  26th  of 
May,  1770,  he  was  enabled  to  bring  his  "Deserted  Village" 

20  before  the  public. 

The  popularity  of  "  The  Traveller  "  had  prepared  the  way 
for  this  poem,  and  its  sale  was  instantaneous  and  immense. 
The  first  edition  was  immediately  exhausted  ;  in  a  few  days 
a  second  was  issued ;  in  a  few  days  more  a  third,  and  by 

25  the  1 6th  of  August  the  fifth  edition  was  hurried  through  the 
press.  As  is  the  case  with  popular  writers,  he  had  become 
his  own  rival,  and  critics  were  inclined  to  give  the  preference 
to  his  first  poem ;  but  with  the  public  at  large  we  believe 


THOUGHTS   OF   HOME  221 

the  "  Deserted  Village  "  has  ever  been  the  greatest  favorite. 
Previous  to  its  publication  the  bookseller  gave  him  in  advance 
a  note  for  the  price  agreed  upon,  one  hundred  guineas.  As 
the  latter  was  returning  home  he  met  a  friend  to  whom  he 
mentioned  the  circumstance,  and  who,  apparently  judging  5 
of  poetry  by  quantity  rather  than  quality,  observed  that  it 
was  a  great  sum  for  so  small  a  poem.  "  In  truth,"  said  Gold- 
smith, "  I  think  so  too ;  it  is  much  more  than  the  honest 
man  can  afford  or  the  piece  is  worth.  I  have  not  been  easy 
since  I  received  it."  In  fact,  he  actually  returned  the  note  10 
to  the  bookseller,  and  left  it  to  him  to  graduate  the  payment 
according  to  the  success  of  the  work.  The  bookseller,  as 
may  well  be  supposed,  soon  repaid  him  in  full  with  many 
acknowledgments  of  his  disinterestedness.  This  anecdote 
has  been  called  in  question,  we  know  not  on  what  grounds;  15 
we  see  nothing  in  it  incompatible  with  the  character  of  Gold- 
smith, who  was  very  impulsive,  and  prone  to  acts  of  incon- 
siderate generosity. 

As  we  do  not  pretend  in  this  summary  memoir  to  go  into 
a  criticism  or  analysis  of  any  of  Goldsmith's  writings,  we  20 
shall  not  dwell  upon  the  peculiar  merits  of  this  poem ;  we 
cannot  help  noticing,  however,  how  truly  it  is  a  mirror  of  the 
author's  heart,  and  of  all  the  fond  pictures  of  early  friends 
and  early  life  forever  present  there.  It  seems  to  us  as  if 
the  very  last  accounts  received  from  home,  of  his  "  shattered  25 
family,"  and  the  desolation  that  seemed  to  have  settled  upon 
the  haunts  of  his  childhood,  had  cut  to  the  roots  one  feebly 
cherished  hope,  and  produced  the  following  exquisitely  tender 
and  mournful  lines  :  — 

"  In  all  my  wand'rings  round  this  world  of  care,  30 

In  all  my  griefs  —  and  God  has  giv'n  my  share  — 
I  still  had  hopes  my  latest  hours  to  crown, 
Amid  these  humble  bowers  to  lay  me  down ; 
To  husband  out  life's  taper  at  the  close, 
And  keep  the  flame  from  wasting  by  repose ;  35 


222  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

I  still  had  hopes,  for  pride  attends  us  still, 
Amid  the  swains  to  show  my  book-learn'd  skill, 
Around  my  fire  an  ev'ning  group  to  draw, 
And  tell  of  all  I  felt  and  all  I  saw ; 

e  And  as  a  hare,  whom  hounds  and  horns  pursue, 

Pants  to  the  place  from  whence  at  first  she  flew ; 
I  still  had  hopes,  my  long  vexations  past, 
Here  to  return  —  and  die  at  home  at  last." 

How  touchingly  expressive  are  the  succeeding  lines,  wrung 
10  from  a  heart  which  all  the  trials  and  temptations  and  buffet- 
ings  of  the  world  could  not  render  worldly ;  which,  amid  a 
thousand  follies  and  errors  of  the  head,  still  retained  its  child- 
like innocence ;  and  which,  doomed  to  struggle  on  to  the  last 
amidst  the  din  and  turmoil  of  the  metropolis,  had  ever  been 
15  cheating  itself  with  a  dream  of  rural  quiet  and  seclusion  :  — 

"  Oh  bless'd  retirement !  friend  to  life's  decline, 
Retreats  from  care,  that  never  must  be  mine, 
How  blest  is  he  who  crowns,  in  shades  like  these, 
A  youth  of  labor  with  an  age  of  ease ; 

20  Who  quits  a  world  where  strong  temptations  try 

And,  since  't  is  hard  to  combat,  learns  to  fly ! 
For  him  no  wretches,  born  to  work  and  weep, 
Explore  the  mine,  or  tempt  the  dangerous  deep ; 
No  surly  porter  stands,  in  guilty  state, 

25  To  spurn  imploring  famine  from  the  gate ; 

But  on  he  moves  to  meet  his  latter  end, 
Angels  around  befriending  virtue's  friend  ; 
Sinks  to  the  grave  with  unperceived  decay, 
While  resignation  gently  slopes  the  way ; 

30  And  all  his  prospects  brightening  to  the  last, 

His  heaven  commences  ere  the  world  be  past." 


NOTE 

The  following  article,  which  appeared  in  a  London  peri 

odical,  shows  the  effect  of  Goldsmith's  poem  in  renovating 

35  the  fortunes  of  Lissoy. 


LISSOY  223 

"About  three  miles  from  Ballymahon,  a  very  central  town 
in  the  sister-kingdom,  is  the  mansion  and  village  of  Auburn,  so 
called  by  their  present  possessor,  Captain  Hogan.  Through 
the  taste  and  improvement  of  this  gentleman,  it  is  now 
a  beautiful  spot,  although  fifteen  years  since  it  presented  a  5 
very  bare  and  un poetical  aspect.  This,  however,  was  owing 
to  a  cause  which  serves  strongly  to  corroborate  the  asser- 
tion, that  Goldsmith  had  this  scene  in  view  when  he  wrote 
his  poem  of  'The  Deserted  Village.'  The  then  possessor, 
General  Napier,  turned  all  his  tenants  out  of  their  farms  10 
that  he  might  enclose  them  in  his  own  private  domain. 
Littleton,  the  mansion  of  the  General,  stands  not  far  off,  a 
complete  emblem  of  the  desolating  spirit  lamented  by  the 
poet,  dilapidated  and  converted  into  a  barrack. 

"The  chief  object  of  attraction  is  Lissoy,  once  the  par-  15 
sonage-house  of  Henry  Goldsmith,  that  brother  to  whom  the 
poet  dedicated  his  'Traveller,'  and  who  is  represented  as  a 
village  pastor, 

u '  Passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year.' 

"When  I  was  in  the  country,  the  lower  chambers  were  20 
inhabited  by  pigs  and  sheep,  and  the  drawing-rooms  by  oats. 
Captain  Hogan,  however,  has,  I  believe,  got  it  since  into  his 
possession,  and  has,  of  course,  improved  its  condition. 

"Though  at  first  strongly  inclined  to  dispute  the  iden- 
tity of  Auburn,  Lissoy  House  overcame  my  scruples.     As  I  25 
clambered  over  the  rotten  gate,  and  crossed  the  grass-grown 
lawn  or  court,  the  tide  of  association  became  too  strong  for 
casuistry :   here  the   poet  dwelt  and  wrote,  and  here  his 
thoughts  fondly  recurred  when  composing  his  'Traveller* 
in  a  foreign   land.     Yonder  was  the   decent  church,  that  30 
literally  'topped  the  neighboring  hill.'     Before  me  lay  the 
little  hill  of  Knockrue,  on  which  he  declares,  in  one  of  his 
letters,  he  had  rather  sit  with  a  book  in  hand  than  mingle 


224  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

in  the  proudest  assemblies.     And,  above  all,  startlingly  true, 
beneath  my  feet  was 

".'  Yonder  copse,  where  once  the  garden  smiled, 
And  still  where  many  a  garden-flower  grows  wild.' 

5  "A  painting  from  the  life  could  not  be  more  exact.  '  The 
stubborn  currant-bush'  lifts  its  head  above  the  rank  grass, 
and  the  proud  hollyhock  flaunts  where  its  sisters  of  the 
flower-knot  are  no  more. 

"In  the  middle  of  the  village  stands  the  old  'hawthorn- 

10  tree,'  built  up  with  masonry  to  distinguish  and  preserve  it; 
it  is  old  and  stunted,  and  suffers  much  from  the  depreda- 
tions of  post-chaise  travellers,  who  generally  stop  to  procure 
a  twig.  Opposite  to  it  is  the  village  alehouse,  over  the  door 
of  which  swings  'The  Three  Jolly  Pigeons.'  Within,  every- 

15  thing  is  arranged  according  to  the  letter:  — 

"'The  whitewash 'd  wall,  the  nicely-sanded  floor, 
The  varnish'd  clock  that  click'd  behind  the  door : 
The  chest,  contrived  a  double  debt  to  pay, 
A  bed  by  night,  a  chest  of  drawers  by  day ; 
20  The  pictures  placed  for  ornament  and  use, 

The  twelve  good  rules,  the  royal  game  of  goose.' 

"  Captain  Hogan,  I  have  heard,  found  great  difficulty  in 
obtaining  'the  twelve  good  rules,'  but  at  length  purchased 
them  at  some  London  bookstall  to  adorn  the  whitewashed 
25  parlor  of  'The  Three  Jolly  Pigeons.'  However  laudable 
this  may  be,  nothing  shook  my  faith  in  the  reality  of  Auburn 
so  much  as  this  exactness,  which  had  the  disagreeable  air  of 
being  got  up  for  the  occasion.  The  last  object  of  pilgrimage 
is  the  quondam  habitation  of  the  schoolmaster, 

3°  " '  There,  in  his  noisy  mansion,  skill'd  to  rule.' 

It  is  surrounded  with  fragrant  proofs  of  identity  in 
" '  The  blossom'd  furze,  unprofitably  gay.' 


THE   POET'S   CHAIR  225 

There  is  to  be  seen  the  chair  of  the  poet,  which  fell  into  the 
hands  of  its  present  possessors  at  the  wreck  of  the  parsonage- 
house  ;  they  have  frequently  refused  large  offers  of  purchase ; 
but  more,  I  dare  say,  for  the  sake  of  drawing  contributions 
from  the  curious  than  from  any  reverence  for  the  bard.  The  5 
chair  is  of  oak,  with  back  and  seat  of  cane,  which  precluded 
all  hopes  of  a  secret  drawer,  like  that  lately  discovered  in 
Gay's.  There  is  no  fear  of  its  being  worn  out  by  the  devout 
earnestness  of  sitters  —  as  the  cocks  and  hens  have  usurped 
undisputed  possession  of  it,  and  protest  most  clamorously  10 
against  all  attempts  to  get  it  cleansed  or  to  seat  one's  self. 
"  The  controversy  concerning  the  identity  of  this  Auburn 
was  formerly  a  standing  theme  of  discussion  among  the 
learned  of  the  neighborhood ;  but,  since  the  pros  and  cons 
have  been  all  ascertained,  the  argument  has  died  away.  Its  15 
abettors  plead  the  singular  agreement  between  the  local  his- 
tory of  the  place  and  the  Auburn  of  the  poem,  and  the 
exactness  with  which  the  scenery  of  the  one  answers  to  the 
description  of  the  other.  To  this  is  opposed  the  mention  of 
the  nightingale,  20 

"'And  fill'd  each  pause  the  nightingale  had  made '; 

there  being  no  such  bird  in  the  island.  The  objection  is 
slighted,  on  the  other  hand,  by  considering  the  passage  as 
a  mere  poetical  license.  '  Besides,'  say  they,  '  the  robin  is 
the  Irish  nightingale.'  And  if  it  be  hinted  how  unlikely  it  25 
was  that  Goldsmith  should  have  laid  the  scene  in  a  place 
from  which  he  was  and  had  been  so  long  absent,  the 
rejoinder  is  always,  'Pray,  sir,  was  Milton  in  hell  when  he 
built  Pandemonium?' 

"  The  line  is  naturally  drawn  between ;  there  can  be  no  30 
doubt  that  the  poet  intended  England  by 

"•The  land  to  hast'ning  ills  a  prey, 
Where  wealth  accumulates  and  men  decay.' 


226  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

But  it  is  very  natural  to  suppose  that,  at  the  same  time,  his 
imagination  had  in  view  the  scenes  of  his  youth,  which  give 
such  strong  features  of  resemblance  to  the  picture." 


Best,  an  Irish  clergyman,  told  Davis,  the  traveller  in 
5  America,  that  the  hawthorn-bush  mentioned  in  the  poem 
was  still  remarkably  large.  "  I  was  riding  once,"  said  he, 
"with  Brady,  titular  Bishop  of  Ardagh,  when  he  observed 
to  me,  '  Ma  foy  Best,  this  huge  overgrown  bush  is  mightily 
in  the  way.  I  will  order  it  to  be  cut  down.' — 'What,  sir ! ' 

10  replied  I,  'cut  down  the  bush  that  supplies  so  beautiful  an 
image  in  "  The  Deserted  Village  "  ? '  — '  Ma  foy  ! '  exclaimed 
the  bishop,  'is  that  the  hawthorn-bush?  Then  let  it  be 
sacred  from  the  edge  of  the  axe,  and  evil  be  to  him  that 
should  cut  off  a  branch.'" — The  hawthorn-bush,  however, 

15  has  long  since  been  cut  up,  root  and  branch,  in  furnishing 
relics  to  literary  pilgrims. 


TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Goldsmith's  reason  for  writing  prose  hack-work  rather  than  poet- 
ical efforts  of  lasting  merit. 

2.  Which   poem   do  you   like   better,   "  The   Traveller "  or  "  The 
Deserted  Village"?     Why? 

3.  Why  does  Irving  call  his  work  a  "  summary  memoir  "  ? 

4.  What  does  Goldsmith  mean  in  "  The  Deserted  Village  "  by  his 
statement  that  for  the  man  who  retires  to  rural  seclusion  "  heaven  com- 
mences ere  the  world  be  past  "  ?     [Compare  a  similar  idea  in  the  early 
part  of  "  The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal."] 

5.  What    is   Irving's   purpose    in   appending   the   note   to    Chap- 
ter XXVIII?     Do  you  think  that  Auburn  has  been  sufficiently  iden- 
tified ?     Are  you  convinced  that  Lissoy  was  the  original  of  Auburn  ? 
Does  it  make  any  difference  whether  Lissoy  was  the  original  or  not  ? 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

The  Poet  among  the  Ladies;  Description  of  his  Person  and  Manners  —  Expe- 
dition to  Paris  with  the  Horneck  Family  —  The  Traveller  of  Twenty  and 
the  Traveller  of  Forty  —  Hickey,  the  Special  Attorney — An  unlucky  Exploit 

The  "Deserted  Village"  had  shed  an  additional  poetic 
grace  round  the  homely  person  of  the  author ;  he  was  becom- 
ing more  and  more  acceptable  in  ladies'  eyes,  and  finding 
himself  more  and  more  at  ease  in  their  society ;  at  least  in 
the  society  of  those  whom  he  met  in  the  Reynolds  circle,  5 
among  whom  he  particularly  affected  the  beautiful  family  of 
the  Hornecks. 

But  let  us  see  what  were  really  the  looks  and  manners  of 
Goldsmith  about  this  time,  and  what  right  he  had  to  aspire 
to  ladies'  smiles  ;  and  in  so  doing  let  us  not  take  the  sketches  10 
of  Boswell  and  his  compeers,  who  had  a  propensity  to  repre- 
sent him  in  caricature ;  but  let  us  take  the  apparently  truth- 
ful and  discriminating  picture  of  him  as  he  appeared  to  Judge 
Day,  when  the  latter  was  a  student  in  the  Temple. 

"In  person,"  says  the  Judge,  "he  was  short;  about  five  15 
feet  five   or  six  inches ;    strong,  but  not  heavy  in   make  ; 
rather  fair  in  complexion,  with  brown  hair;  such,  at  least, 
as  could  be  distinguished  from  his  wig.     His  features  were 
plain,  but  not  repulsive,  —  certainly  not  so  when  lighted  up 
by  conversation.     His  manners  were  simple,  natural,  and  20 
perhaps  on  the  whole,  we  may  say,  not  polished;  at  least 
without  the  refinement  and  good-breeding  which  the  exqui- 
site polish  of  his  compositions  would  lead  us  to  expect.     He 
was  always  cheerful  and  animated,  often,  indeed,  boisterous 
in  his  mirth ;  entered  with  spirit  into  convivial  society ;  con-  25 
tributed  largely  to  its  enjoyments  by  solidity  of  information, 

227 


228  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

and  the  naivete  and  originality  of  his  character ;  talked  often 

without  premeditation,  and  laughed  loudly  without  restraint." 

This,  it  will  be  recollected,  represents  him  as  he  appeared 

to  a  young  Templar,  who  probably  saw  him  only  in  Temple 

5  coffee-houses,  at  students'  quarters,  or  at  the  jovial  supper- 
parties  given  at  the  poet's  own  chambers.  Here,  of  course, 
his  mind  was  in  its  rough  dress ;  his  laugh  may  have  been 
loud  and  his  mirth  boisterous  ;  but  we  trust  all  these  matters 
became  softened  and  modified  when  he  found  himself  in 

10  polite  drawing-rooms  and  in  female  society. 

But  what  say  the  ladies  themselves  of  him  ;  and  here,  for- 
tunately, we  have  another  sketch  of  him,  as  he  appeared  at 
the  time  to  one  of  the  Horneck  circle ;  in  fact,  we  believe, 
to  the  Jessamy  Bride  herself.  After  admitting,  apparently, 

15  with  some  reluctance,  that  "he  was  a  very  plain  man,"  she 
goes  on  to  say,  "but  had  he  been  much  more  so,  it  was 
impossible  not  to  love  and  respect  his  goodness  of  heart, 
which  broke  out  on  every  occasion.  His  benevolence  was 
unquestionable,  and  his  countenance  bore  every  trace  of  it :  no 

20  one  that  knew  him  intimately  could  avoid  admiring  and  lov- 
ing his  good  qualities."  When  to  all  this  we  add  the  idea  of 
intellectual  delicacy  and  refinement  associated  with  him  by 
his  poetry  and  the  newly-plucked  bays  that  were  flourishing 
round  his  brow,  we  cannot  be  surprised  that  fine  and  fashion- 

25  able  ladies  should  be  proud  of  his  attentions,  and  that  even 
a  young  beauty  should  not  be  altogether  displeased  with  the 
thoughts  of  having  a  man  of  his  genius  in  her  chains. 

We  are  led  to  indulge  some  notions"  of  the  kind  from  find- 
ing him  in  the  month  of  July,  but  a  few  weeks  after  the  publi- 

30  cation  of  the  "  Deserted  Village,"  setting  off  on  a  six  weeks' 
excursion  to  Paris,  in  company  with  Mrs.  Horneck  and  her 
two  beautiful  daughters.  A  day  or  two  before  his  departure, 
we  find  another  new  gala  suit  charged  to  him  on  the  books 
of  Mr.  William  Filby.  Were  the  bright  eyes  of  the  Jessamy 


HINTS  AND   SURMISES 


229 


Bride  responsible  for  this  additional  extravagance  of  ward- 
robe ?  Goldsmith  had  recently  been  editing  the  works  of 
Parnell ;  had  he  taken  courage  from  the  example  of  Edwin 
in  the  Fairy  tale  ?  — 

"  Yet  spite  of  all  that  nature  did 
To  make  his  uncouth  form  forbid, 

This  creature  dared  to  love. 
He  felt  the  force  of  Edith's  eyes, 
Nor  wanted  hope  to  gain  the  prize 

Could  ladies  look  within  " 

All  this  we  throw  out  as  mere  hints  and  surmises,  leaving 
it  to  our  readers  to  draw  their  own  conclusions.  It  will  be 
found,  however,  that  the  poet  was  subjected  to  shrewd  ban- 
tering among  his  contemporaries  about  the  beautiful  Mary 
Horneck,  and  that  he  was  extremely  sensitive  on  the  subject.  15 

It  was  in  the  month  of  June  that  he  set  out  for  Paris  with 
his  fair  companions,  and  the  following  letter  was  written  by 
him  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  soon  after  the  party  landed  at 
Calais. 

"Mv  DEAR  FRIEND, —  20 

"We  had  a  very  quick  passage  from  Dover  to  Calais, 
which  we  performed  in  three  hours  and  twenty  minutes,  all 
of  us  extremely  sea-sick,  which  must  necessarily  have  hap- 
pened, as  my  machine  to  prevent  sea-sickness  was  not  com- 
pleted. We  were  glad  to  leave  Dover,  because  we  hated  to  25 
be  imposed  upon  ;  so  were  in  high  spirits  at  coming  to  Calais, 
where  we  were  told  that  a  little  money  would  go  a  great  way. 
"Upon  landing,  with  two  little  trunks,  which  was  all  we 
carried  with  us,  we  were  surprised  to  see  fourteen  or  fifteen 
fellows  all  running  down  to  the  ship  to  lay  their  hands  upon  30 
them ;  four  got  under  each  trunk,  the  rest  surrounded  and 
held  the  hasps ;  and  in  this  manner  our  little  baggage  was 
conducted,  with  a  kind  of  funeral  solemnity,  till  it  was  safely 


2$0  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

lodged  at  the  custom-house.  We  were  well  enough  pleased 
with  the  people's  civility  till  they  came  to  be  paid  ;  every 
creature  that  had  the  happiness  of  but  touching  our  trunks 
with  their  finger  expected  sixpence ;  and  they  had  so  pretty 
5  and  civil  a  manner  of  demanding  it,  that  there  was  no 
refusing  them. 

"When  we  had  done  with  the  porters,  we  had  next  to 
speak  with  the  custom-house  officers,  who  had  their  pretty 
civil  way  too.  We  were  directed  to  the  Hotel  d'Angleterre, 

10  where  a  valet-de-place  came  to  offer  his  service,  and  spoke 
to  me  ten  minutes  before  I  once  found  out  that  he  was 
speaking  English.  We  had  no  occasion,  for  his  services,  so 
we  gave  him  a  little  money  because  he  spoke  English,  and 
because  he  wanted  it.  I  cannot  help  mentioning  another 

15  circumstance :  I  bought  a  new  riband  for  my  wig  at  Can- 
terbury, and  the  barber  at  Calais  broke  it  in  order  to  gain 
sixpence  by  buying  me  a  new  one." 

An  incident  which  occurred  in  the  course  of  this  tour  has 
been  tortured  by  that  literary  magpie,  Boswell,  into  a  proof 

20  of  Goldsmith's  absurd  jealousy  of  any  admiration  shown  to 
others  in  his  presence.  While  stopping  at  a  hotel  in  Lisle, 
they  were  drawn  to  the  windows  by  a  military  parade  in 
front.  The  extreme  beauty  of  the  Miss  Hornecks  immedi- 
ately attracted  the  attention  of  the  officers,  who  broke  forth 

25  with  enthusiastic  speeches  and  compliments  intended  for 
their  ears.  Goldsmith  was  amused  for  a  while,  but  at  length 
affected  impatience  at  this  exclusive  admiration  of  his  beau- 
tiful companions,  and  exclaimed,  with  mock  severity  of  aspect, 
"  Elsewhere  I  also  would  have  my  admirers." 

30  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  the  obtuseness  of  intellect  neces- 
sary to  misconstrue  so  obvious  a  piece  of  mock  petulance  and 
dry  humor  into  an  instance  of  mortified  vanity  and  jealous 
self-conceit. 


BOSWELL'S  ABSURDITIES 


231 


Goldsmith  jealous  of  the  admiration  of  a  group  of  gay 
officers  for  the  charms  of  two  beautiful  young  women !  This 
even  out-Boswells  Boswell ;  yet  this  is  but  one  of  several 
similar  absurdities,  evidently  misconceptions  of  Goldsmith's 
peculiar  vein  of  humor,  by  which  the  charge  of  envious  5 
jealousy  has  been  attempted  to  be  fixed  upon  him.  In  the 
present  instance  it  was  contradicted  by  one  of  the  ladies 
herself,  who  was  annoyed  that  it  had  been  advanced  against 
him.  "I  am  sure,"  said  she,  "from  the  peculiar  manner  of 
his  humor,  and  assumed  frown  of  countenance,  what  was  10 
often  uttered  in  jest  was  mistaken,  by  those  who  did  not 
know  him,  for  earnest."  No  one  was  more  prone  to  err  on 
this  point  than  Boswell.  He  had  a  tolerable  perception  of 
wit,  but  none  of  humor. 

The  following  letter  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was  subse-  15 
quently  written. 

"  To  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 

"Paris,  July  29,  [1770.] 

"  My  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  began  a  long  letter  to  you  from 
Lisle,  giving  a  description  of  all  that  we  had  done  and  seen,  20 
but,  finding  it  very  dull,  and  knowing  that  you  would  show 
it  again,  I  threw  it  aside  and  it  was  lost.     You  see  by  the 
top  of  this  letter  that  we  are  at  Paris,  and  (as  I  have  often 
heard  you  say)  we  have  brought  our  own  amusement  with 
us,  for  the  ladies  do  not  seem  to  be  very  fond  of  what  we  25 
have  yet  seen. 

"  With  regard  to  myself,  I  find  that  travelling  at  twenty 
and  forty  are  very  different  things.  I  set  out  with  all  my 
confirmed  habits  about  me,  and  can  find  nothing  on  the 
Continent  so  good  as  when  I  formerly  left  it.  One  of  our  30 
chief  amusements  here  is  scolding  at  everything  we  meet 
with,  and  praising  everything  and  every  person  we  left  at 
home.  You  may  judge,  therefore,  whether  your  name  is 


232  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

not  frequently  bandied  at  table  among  us.  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  never  thought  I  could  regret  your  absence  so  much 
as  our  various  mortifications  on  the  road  have  often  taught 
me  to  do.  I  could  tell  you  of  disasters  and  adventures 
5  without  number ;  of  our  lying  in  barns,  and  of  my  being 
half  poisoned  with  a  dish  of  green  peas ;  of  our  quarrelling 
with  postilions,  and  being  cheated  by  our  landladies ;  but 
I  reserve  all  this  for  a  happy  hour  which  I  expect  to  share 
with  you  upon  my  return. 

10  "I  have  little  to  tell  you  more,  but  that  we  are  at  present 
all  well,  and  expect  returning  when  we  have  stayed  out  one 
month,  which  I  did  not  care  if  it  were  over  this  very  day. 
I  long  to  hear  from  you  all,  how  you  yourself  do,  how  John- 
son, Burke,  Dyer,  Chamier,  Colman,  and  every  one  of  the 

1 5  club  do.  I  wish  I  could  send  you  some  amusement  in  this 
letter,  but  I  protest  I  am  so  stupefied  by  the  air  of  this 
country  (for  I  am  sure  it  cannot  be  natural)  that  I  have 
not  a  word  to  say.  I  have  been  thinking  of  the  plot  of 
a  comedy,  which  shall  be  entitled  'A  Journey  to  Paris/  in 

20  which  a  family  shall  be  introduced  with  a  full  intention  of 
going  to  France  to  save  money.  You  know  there  is  not  a 
place  in  the  world  more  promising  for  that  purpose.  As 
for  the  meat  of  this  country,  I  can  scarce  eat  it;  and  though 
we  pay  two  good  shillings  a  head  for  our  dinner,  I  find  it  all 

25  so  tough  that  I  have  spent  less  time  with  my  knife  than  my 
picktooth.  I  said  this  as  a  good  thing  at  the  table,  but  it 
was  not  understood.  I  believe  it  to  be  a  good  thing. 

"As  for  our  intended  journey  to  Devonshire,  I  find  it  out 
of  my  power  to  perform  it ;  for,  as  soon  as  I  arrive  at  Dover, 

30  I  intend  to  let  the  ladies  go  on,  and  I  will  take  a  country- 
lodging  somewhere  near  that  place  in  order  to  do  some  busi- 
ness. I  have  so  outrun  the  constable  that  I  must  mortify 
a  little  to  bring  it  up  again.  For  God's  sake,  the  night  you 
receive  this,  take  your  pen  in  your  hand  and  tell  me  something 


THE    CHANGES    OF   TWENTY   YEARS          233 

about  yourself  and  myself,  if  you  know  anything  that  has 
happened.  About  Miss  Reynolds,  about  Mr.  Bickerstaff,  my 
nephew,  or  anybody  that  you  regard.  I  beg  you  will  send 
to  Griffin  the  bookseller  to  know  if  there  be  any  letters  left 
for  me,  and  be  so  good  as  to  send  them  to  me  at  Paris.  5 
They  may  perhaps  be  left  for  me  at  the  Porter's  Lodge, 
opposite  the  pump  in  Temple  Lane.  The  same  messenger 
will  do.  I  expect  one  from  Lord  Clare,  from  Ireland.  As 
for  the  others,  I  am  not  much  uneasy  about. 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  at  Paris  ?    I  wish  you  10 
would  tell  me.    The  whole  of  my  own  purchases  here  is  one 
silk  coat,  which  I  have  put  on,  and  which  makes  me  look  like 
a  fool.     But  no  more  of  that.     I  find  that  Colman  has  gained 
his  lawsuit.     I  am  glad  of  it.     I  suppose  you  often  meet.     I 
will  soon  be  among  you,  better  pleased  with  my  situation  at  15 
home  than  I  ever  was  before.     And  yet  I  must  say,  that,  if 
anything  could  make  France  pleasant,  the  very  good  women 
with  whom  I  am  at  present  would  certainly  do  it.     I  could 
say  more  about  that,  but  I  intend  showing  them  the  letter 
before  I  send  it  away.     What  signifies  teazing  you  longer  20 
with  moral  observations,  when  the  business  of  my  writing  is 
over  ?     I  have  one  thing  only  more  to  say,  and  of  that  I 
think  every  hour  in  the  day,  namely,  that  I  am  your  most 
sincere  and  most  affectionate  friend, 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH.      25 

"  Direct  to  me  at  the  Hotel  de  Danemarc,  ) 
Rue  Jacob,  Fauxbourg  St.  Germains."     ) 

A  word  of  comment  on  this  letter  :  — 

Travelling  is,  indeed,  a  very  different  thing  with  Gold- 
smith the  poor  student  at  twenty,  and  Goldsmith  the  poet  30 
and  Professor  at  forty.  At  twenty,  though  obliged  to  trudge 
on  foot  from  town  to  town,  and  country  to  country,  paying 
for  a  supper  and  a  bed  by  a  tune  on  the  flute,  everything 
pleased,  everything  was  good ;  a  truckle-bed  in  a  garret  was 


234  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

a  couch  of  down,  and  the  homely  fare  of  the  peasant  a  feast 
fit  for  an  epicure.  Now,  at  forty,  when  he  posts  through  the 
country  in  a  carriage,  with  fair  ladies  by  his  side,  everything 
goes  wrong :  he  has  to  quarrel  with  postilions,  he  is  cheated 
5  by  landladies,  the  hotels  are  barns,  the  meat  is  too  tough  to 
be  eaten,  and  he  is  half  poisoned  by  green  peas  1  A  line  in 
his  letter  explains  the  secret :  "  the  ladies  do  not  seem  to  be 
very  fond  of  what  we  have  seen."  "  One  of  our  chief  amuse- 
ments is  scolding  at  everything  we  meet  with,  and  praising 

10  everything  and  every  person  we  have  left  at  home !  " —  the 
true  English  travelling  amusement.  Poor  Goldsmith  !  he  has 
"  all  his  confirmed  habits  about  him  " ;  that  is  to  say,  he  has 
recently  risen  into  high  life,  and  acquired  high-bred  notions ; 
he  must  be  fastidious  like  his  fellow-travellers  ;  he  dare  not 

15  be  pleased  with  what  pleased  the  vulgar  tastes  of  his  youth. 
He  is  unconsciously  illustrating  the  trait  so  humorously  sat- 
irized by  him  in  Ned  Tibbs,  the  shabby  beau,  who  can  find 
"no  such  dressing  as  he  had  at  Lord  Crump's  or  Lady 
Crimp's";  whose  very  senses  have  grown  genteel,  and  who 

20  no  longer  "  smacks  at  wretched  wine  or  praises  detestable 
custard."  A  lurking  thorn,  too,  is  worrying  him  throughout 
this  tour;  he  has  "outrun  the  constable";  that  is  to  say,  his 
expenses  have  outrun  his  means,  and  he  will  have  to  make 
up  for  this  butterfly  flight  by  toiling  like  a  grub  on  his 

25  return. 

Another  circumstance  contributes  to  mar  the  pleasure  he 
had  promised  himself  in  this  excursion.  At  Paris  the  party 
is  unexpectedly  joined  by  a  Mr.  Hickey,  a  bustling  attorney, 
who  is  well  acquainted  with  that  metropolis  and  its  environs, 

30  and  insists  on  playing  the  cicerone  on  all  occasions.  He 
and  Goldsmith  do  not  relish  each  other,  and  they  have 
several  petty  altercations.  The  lawyer  is  too  much  a  man 
of  business  and  method  for  the  careless  poet,  and  is  dis- 
posed to  manage  everything.  He  has  perceived  Goldsmith's 


THE   SPECIAL  ATTORNEY  235 

whimsical  peculiarities  without  properly  appreciating  his 
merits,  and  is  prone  to  indulge  in  broad  bantering  and 
raillery  at  his  expense,  particularly  irksome  if  indulged  in 
presence  of  the  ladies.  He  makes  himself  merry  on  his 
return  to  England,  by  giving  the  following  anecdote  as  5 
illustrative  of  Goldsmith's  vanity:  — 

"Being  with  a  party  at  Versailles;  viewing  the  water- 
works, a  question  arose  among  the  gentlemen  present, 
whether  the  distance  from  whence  they  stood  to  one  of  the 
little  islands  was  within  the  compass  of  a  leap.  Goldsmith  10 
maintained  the  affirmative;  but,  being  bantered  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  remembering  his  former  prowess  as  a  youth, 
attempted  the  leap,  but,  falling  short,  descended  into  the 
water,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the  company." 

Was  the  Jessamy  Bride  a  witness  of  this  unlucky  exploit?  15 
This  same  Hickey  is  the  one  of  whom  Goldsmith,  some 
time    subsequently,    gave    a   good-humored   sketch,  in   his 
poem  of  "The  Retaliation." 

"  Here  Hickey  reclines,  a  most  blunt,  pleasant  creature, 
And  slander  itself  must  allow  him  good-nature;  20 

He  cherish 'd  his  friend,  and  he  relish'd  a  bumper, 
Yet  one  fault  he  had,  and  that  one  was  a  thumper. 
Perhaps  you  may  ask  if  the  man  was  a  miser ; 
I  answer,  No,  no,  for  he  always  was  wiser ; 

Too  courteous,  perhaps,  or  obligingly  flat  ?  25 

His  very  worst  foe  can't  accuse  him  of  that; 
Perhaps  he  confided  in  men  as  they  go, 
And  so  was  too  foolishly  honest  ?     Ah,  no ! 
Then  what  was  his  failing  ?     Come,  tell  it,  and  burn  ye  — 
He  was,  could  he  help  it  ?  a  special  attorney."  3° 

One  of  the  few  remarks  extant  made  by  Goldsmith  during 
his  tour  is  the  following,  of  whimsical  import,  in  his  "  Ani- 
mated Nature." 

"  In  going  through  the  towns  of  France,  some  time  since, 
I  could  not  help  observing  how  much  plainer  their  parrots  35 


236  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

spoke  than  ours,  and  how  very  distinctly  I  understood  their 
parrots  speak  French,  when  I  could  not  understand  our  own, 
though  they  spoke  my  native  language.  I  at  first  ascribed 
it  to  the  different  qualities  of  the  two  languages,  and  was 
5  for  entering  into  an 'elaborate  discussion  on  the  vowels  and 
consonants ;  but  a  friend  that  was  with  me  solved  the  diffi- 
culty at  once,  by  assuring  me  that  the  French  women  scarce 
did  anything  else  the  whole  day  than  sit  and  instruct  their 
feathered  pupils;  and  that  the  birds  were  thus  distinct  in 

10  their  lessons  in  consequence  of  continual  schooling." 

His  tour  does  not  seem  to  have  left  in  his  memory 
the  most  fragrant  recollections ;  for,  being  asked,  after  his 
return,  whether  travelling  on  the  Continent  repaid  "an 
Englishman  for  the  privations  and  annoyances  attendant  on 

15  it,"  he  replied,  "I  recommend  it  by  all  means  to  the  sick, 
if  they  are  without  the  sense  of  smelling,  and  to  the  poor  if 
they  are  without  the  sense  of  feeling,  and  to  both  if  they 
can  discharge  from  their  minds  all  idea  of  what  in  England 
we  term  comfort." 

20  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  universal  improvement  in 
the  art  of  living  on  the  Continent  has  at  the  present  day 
taken  away  the  force  of  Goldsmith's  reply,  though  even  at 
the  time  it  was  more  humorous  than  correct. 


TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  The  appearance  and  manners  of  Goldsmith  about  1770. 

2.  What   conclusions   do   you   draw    from    Irving's    hints  in    this 
chapter  ? 

3.  Why  does  Irving  call  Boswell  a  literary  magpie  ? 

4.  What  is  the  difference  between  wit  and  humor?     Do  you  find 
either  in  Irving's  biography  of  Goldsmith  ? 

5.  Was  it  good  etiquette  for  Reynolds  to  show  Goldsmith's  letters  ? 

6.  Anecdotes  of  Goldsmith's  trip  to  the  Continent  in  1770. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Death  of  Goldsmith's  Mother  —  Biography  of  Parnell— Agreement  with 
Da  vies  for  the  History  of  Rome— Life  of  Bolingbroke  —  The  Haunch  of 
Venison. 

On  his  return  to  England,  Goldsmith  received  the  melan- 
choly tidings  of  the  death  of  his  mother.  Notwithstanding 
the  fame  as  an  author  to  which  he  had  attained,  she  seems 
to  have  been  disappointed  in  her  early  expectations  from 
him.  Like  others  of  his  family,  she  had  been  more  vexed  5 
by  his  early  follies  than  pleased  by  his  proofs  of  genius; 
and  in  subsequent  years,  when  he  had  risen  to  fame  and  to 
intercourse  with  the  great,  ha.d  been  annoyed  at  the  igno- 
rance of  the  world  and  want  of  management,  which  pre- 
vented him  from  pushing  his  fortune.  He  had  always,  10 
however,  been  an  affectionate  son,  and  in  the  latter  years 
of  her  life,  when  she  had  become  blind,  contributed  from 
his  precarious  resources  to  prevent  her  from  feeling  want. 

He  now  resumed  the  labors  of  the  pen,  which  his  recent 
excursion  to  Paris  rendered  doubly  necessary.     We  should  15 
have   mentioned    a  "  Life    of   Parnell,"  published   by   him 
shortly  after  the  "Deserted  Village."     It  was,  as  usual,  a 
piece  of  job-work,  hastily  got  up  for  pocket-money.     John- 
son spoke  slightingly  of  it,  and  the  author  himself  thought 
proper  to  apologize  for  its  meagreness,  —  yet,  in  so  doing,  20 
used  a  simile,  which  for  beauty  of  imagery  and  felicity  of 
language  is  enough  of  itself  to  stamp  a  value  upon  the  essay. 

"  Such,"  says  he.  "  is  the  very  unpoetical  detail  of  the  life 
of  a  poet.     Some  dates  and  some  few  facts,  scarcely  more 
interesting  than  those  that  make  the  ornaments  of  a  coun-  25 
try  tombstone,  are  all  that  remain  of  one  whose  labors  now 

23? 


238  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

begin  to  excite  universal  curiosity.  A  poet,  while  living,  is 
seldom  an  object  sufficiently  great  to  attract  much  attention ; 
his  real  merits  are  known  but  to  a  few,  and  these  are  gener- 
ally sparing  in  their  praises.  When  his  fame  is  increased 
5  by  time,  it  is  then  too  late  to  investigate  the  peculiarities 
of  his  disposition ;  the  dews  of  morning  are  past,  and  we 
•vainly  try  to  continue  the  chase  by  the  meridian  splendor." 

He  now  entered  into  an  agreement  with  Davies  to  pre- 
pare   an    abridgment,    in    one    volume    duodecimo,    of   his 

10  "History  of  Rome";  but  first  to  write  a  work  for  which 
there  was  a  more  immediate  demand.  Davies  was  about 
to  republish  Lord  Bolingbroke's  "  Dissertation  on  Parties," 
which  he  conceived  would  be  exceedingly  applicable  to 
the  affairs  of  the  day,  and  make  a  probable  hit  during  the 

15  existing  state  of  violent  political  excitement;  to  give  it  still 
greater  effect  and  currency,  he  engaged  Goldsmith  to  intro- 
duce it  with  a  prefatory  life  of  Lord  Bolingbroke. 

About  this  time  Goldsmith's  friend  and  countryman,  Lord 
Clare,  was  in  great  affliction,  caused  by  the  death  of  his 

20  only  son,  Colonel  Nugent,  and  stood  in  need  of  the  sympa- 
thies of  a  kind-hearted  friend.  At  his  request,  therefore, 
Goldsmith  paid  him  a  visit  at  his  seat  of  Gosfield,  taking 
his  tasks  with  him.  Davies  was  in  a  worry  lest  Gosfield 
Park  should  prove  a  Capua  to  the  poet,  and  the  time  be 

25  lost.  "Dr.  Goldsmith,"  writes  he  to  a  friend,  "has  gone 
with  Lord  Clare  into  the  country,  and  I  am  plagued  to  get 
the  proofs  from  him  of  the  '  Life  of  Lord  Bolingbroke.'  " 
The  proofs,  however,  were  furnished  in  time  for  the  publi- 
cation of  the  work  in  December.  The  "  Biography,"  though 

30  written  during  a  time  of  political  turmoil,  and  introducing 
a  work  intended  to  be  thrown  into  the  arena  of  politics, 
maintained  that  freedom  from  party  prejudice  observable 
in  all  the  writings  of  Goldsmith.  It  was  a  selection  of  facts, 
drawn  from  many  unreadable  sources,  and  arranged  into  a 


BIOGRAPHY  OF   BOLINGBROKE  239 

clear,  flowing  narrative,  illustrative  of  the  career  and  charac- 
ter of  one  who,  as  he  intimates,  "  seemed  formed  by  Nature 
to  take  delight  in  struggling  with  opposition;  whose  most 
agreeable  hours  were  passed  in  storms  of  his  own  creating  ; 
whose  life  was  spent  in  a  continual  conflict  of  politics,  and  5 
as  if  that  was  too  short  for  the  combat,  has  left  his  memory 
as  a  subject  of  lasting  contention."  The  sum  received  by 
the  author  for  this  memoir  is  supposed,  from  circumstances, 
to  have  been  forty  pounds. 

Goldsmith  did  not  find  the  residence  among  the  great  10 
unattended  with  mortifications.     He  had  now  become  accus- 
tomed to  be  regarded  in   London   as  a  literary  lion,  and 
was  annoyed  at  what  he  considered  a  slight  on  the  part 
of  Lord   Camden.     He  complained  of  it  on  his  return  to 
town    at   a   party  of   his   friends.     "I  met  him,"  said  he,  15 
"at   Lord  Clare's  house  in  the  country;  and  he  took  no 
more  notice  of  me  than  if  I  had  been  an  ordinary  man." 
"  The  company,"  says  Boswell,   "  laughed  heartily  at  this 
piece  of  '  diverting  simplicity.' "     And  foremost  among  the 
laughers  was  doubtless  the  rattle-pated  Boswell.     Johnson,  20 
however,   stepped  forward,  as  usual,   to   defend   the  poet, 
whom  he  would  allow  no  one  to  assail  but  himself;  perhaps 
in  the  present  instance  he  thought  the  dignity  of  literature 
itself  involved  in  the  question.     "  Nay,  gentlemen,"  roared 
he,  "  Dr.  Goldsmith  is  in  the  right.     A  nobleman  ought  to  25 
have  made  up  to  such  a  man  as  Goldsmith,  and  I  think  it 
is  much  against  Lord  Camden  that  he  neglected  him." 

After  Goldsmith's  return  to  town  he  received  from  Lord 
Clare  a  present  of  game,  which  he  has  celebrated  and 
perpetuated  in  his  amusing  verses  entitled  the  "  Haunch  30 
of  Venison."  Some  of  the  lines  pleasantly  set  forth  the 
embarrassment  caused  by  the  appearance  of  such  an  aristo- 
cratic delicacy  in  the  humble  kitchen  of  a  poet,  accustomed 
to  look  up  to  mutton  as  a  treat :  — 


240  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

"Thanks,  my  lord,  for  your  venison;  for  finer  or  fatter 
Never  rang'd  in  a  forest,  or  smok'd  in  a  platter  : 
The  haunch  was  a  picture  for  painters  to  study, 
The  fat  was  so  white,  and  the  lean  was  so  ruddy; 

5  Though  my  stomach  was  sharp,  I  could  scarce  help  regretting 

To  spoil  such  a  delicate  picture  by  eating  : 
I  had  thought  in  my  chambers  to  place  it  in  view, 
To  be  shown  to  my  friends  as  a  piece  of  virtu ; 
As  in  some  Irish  houses  where  things  are  so-so, 
10  One  gammon  of  bacon  hangs  up  for  a  show; 

But,  for  eating  a  rasher,  of  what  they  take  pride  in, 
They  'd  as  soon  think  of  eating  the  pan  it  was  fry'd  in. 

But  hang  it  —  to  poets,  who  seldom  can  eat, 
Yeur  very  good  mutton  's  a  very  good  treat ; 
15  Such  dainties  to  them,  their  health  it  might  hurt; 

It  's  like  sending  them  ruffles,  when  wanting  a  shirt.'1'' 

We  have  an  amusing  anecdote  of  one  of  Goldsmith's 
blunders  which  took  place  on  a  subsequent  visit  to  Lord 
Clare's,  when  that  nobleman  was  residing  in  Bath. 

20  Lord  Clare  and  the  Duke  of  Northumberland  had  houses 
next  to  each  other  of  similar  architecture.  Returning  home 
one  morning  from  an  early  walk,  Goldsmith,  in  one  of  his 
frequent  fits  of  absence,  mistook  the  house,  and  walked  up 
into  the  Duke's  dining-room,  where  he  and  the  Duchess 

25  were  about  to  sit  down  to  breakfast.  Goldsmith,  still 
supposing  himself  in  the  house  of  Lord  Clare,  and  that 
they  were  visitors,  made  them  an  easy  salutation,  being 
acquainted  with  them,  and  threw  himself  on  a  sofa  in  the 
lounging  manner  of  a  man  perfectly  at  home.  The  Duke 

30  and  Duchess  soon  perceived  his  mistake,  and,  while  they 
smiled  internally,  endeavored,  with  the  considerateness  of 
well-bred  people,  to  prevent  any  awkward  embarrassment. 
They  accordingly  chatted  sociably  with  him  about  matters 
in  Bath,  until,  breakfast  being  served,  they  invited  him  to 

35  partake.     The  truth  at  once  flashed   upon  poor  heedless 


AN    EMBARRASSING   BLUNDER  241 

Goldsmith;  he  started  up  from  his  free-and-easy  position, 
made  a  confused  apology  for  his  blunder,  and  would  have  re- 
tired perfectly  disconcerted,  had  not  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
treated  the  whole  as  a  lucky  occurrence  to  throw  him  in 
their  way,  and  exacted  a  promise  from  him  to  dine  with  5 
them. 

This  may  be  hung  up  as  a  companion-piece  to  his  blunder 
on  his  first  visit  to  Northumberland  House. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  The  death  of  Goldsmith's  mother.    What  appears  to  have  been 
her  influence  over  Oliver? 

2.  Read  a  few  pages  (as  many  as  you  can)  of  Boswell's  "  Life  of 
Johnson,"  and  decide  whether  Irving's  attitude  to  Boswell  is  a  fair 
one.     [A  cheap  edition  of  Boswell's  book  is  published  by  T.  Y.  Crowell 
&  Company,  New  York.] 

3.  Give  an   account   of   Goldsmith's  appearance   in   the   Duke   of 
Northumberland's  dining-room. 

4.  How  could  Gosfield  Park  prove  a  Capua  to  Goldsmith  ? 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

Dinner  at  the  Royal  Academy — The  Rowley  Controversy — Horace  Walpole's 
Conduct  to  Chatterton — Johnson  at  Redcliffe  Church — Goldsmith's  His- 
tory of  England  —  Davies's  Criticism  —  Letter  to  Bennet  Langton. 

On  St.  George's  day  of  this  year  (1771),  the  first  annual 
banquet  of  the  Royal  Academy  was  held  in  the  exhibition 
room  ;  the  walls  of  which  were  covered  with  works  of  art, 
about  to  be  submitted  to  public  inspection.  Sir  Joshua 
5  Reynolds,  who  first  suggested  this  elegant  festival,  presided 
in  his  official  character;  Drs.  Johnson  and  Goldsmith,  of 
course,  were  present,  as  Professors  of  the  academy ;  and, 
besides  the  academicians,  there  was  a  large  number  of  the 
most  distinguished  men  of  the  day  as  guests.  Goldsmith 

10  on  this  occasion  drew  on  himself  the  attention  of  the  com- 
pany by  launching  out  with  enthusiasm  on  the  poems 
recently  given  to  the  world  by  Chatterton,  as  the  works  of 
an  ancient  author  by  the  name  of  Rowley,  discovered  in 
the  tower  of  Redcliffe  Church,  at  Bristol.  Goldsmith  spoke 

15  of  them  with  rapture,  as  a  treasure  of  old  English  poetry. 
This  immediately  raised  the  question  of  their  authenticity; 
they  having  been  pronounced  a  forgery  of  Chatterton's. 
Goldsmith  was  warm  for  their  being  genuine.  When  he 
considered,  he  said,  the  merit  of  the  poetry,  the  acquaint- 

20  ance  with  life  and  the  human  heart  displayed  in  them,  the 
antique  quaintness  of  the  language  and  the  familiar  knowl- 
edge of  historical  events  of  their  supposed  day,  he  could 
not  believe  it  possible  they  could  be  the  work  of  a  boy  of 
sixteen,  of  narrow  education,  and  confined  to  the  duties 

25  of  an  attorney's  office.  They  must  be  the  productions  of 
Rowley. 

242 


CHATTERTON 


243 


Johnson,  who  was  a  stout  unbeliever  in  Rowley,  as  he 
had  been  in  Ossian,  rolled  in  his  chair  and  laughed  at  the 
enthusiasm  of  Goldsmith.  Horace  Walpole,  who  sat  near 
by,  joined  in  the  laugh  and  jeer  as  soon  as  he  found  that 
the  "trouvaille"  as  he  called  it,  "of  his  friend  Chatterton  "  5 
was  in  question.  This  matter,  which  had  excited  the  simple 
admiration  of  Goldsmith,  was  no  novelty  to  him,  he  said. 
"  He  might,  had  he  pleased,  have  had  the  honor  of  usher- 
ing the  great  discovery  to  the  learned  world."  And  so  he 
might,  had  he  followed  his  first  impulse  in  the  matter,  for  10 
he  himself  had  been  an  original  believer ;  had  pronounced 
some  specimen  verses  sent  to  him  by  Chatterton  wonderful 
for  their  harmony  and  spirit ;  and  had  been  ready  to  print 
them  and  publish  them  to  the  world  with  his  sanction. 
When  he  found,  however,  that  his  unknown  correspondent  15 
was  a  mere  boy,  humble  in  sphere  and  indigent  in  circum- 
stances, and  when  Gray  and  Mason  pronounced  the  poems 
forgeries,  he  had  changed  his  whole  conduct  towards  the 
unfortunate  author,  and  by  his  neglect  and  coldness  had 
dashed  all  his  sanguine  hopes  to  the  ground.  20 

Exulting  in  his  superior  discernment,  this  cold-hearted  man 
of  society  now  went  on  to  divert  himself,  as  he  says,  with 
the  credulity  of  Goldsmith,  whom  he  was  accustomed  to  pro- 
nounce "an  inspired  idiot";  but  his  mirth  was  soon  dashed, 
for  on  asking  the  poet  what  had  become  of  this  Chatterton,  25 
he  was  answered,  doubtless  in  the  feeling  tone  of  one  who 
had  experienced  the  pangs  of  despondent  genius,  that  "  he 
had  been  to  London,  and  had  destroyed  himself." 

The  reply  struck  a  pang  of  self-reproach  even  to  the  cold 
heart  of  Walpole ;  a  faint  blush  may  have  visited  his  cheek  3° 
at  his  recent  levity.  "The  persons  of  honor  and  veracity 
who  were  present,"  said  he  in  after-years,  when  he  found 
it  necessary  to  exculpate  himself  from  the  charge  of  heart- 
less neglect  of  genius,  "  will  attest  with  what  surprise  and 


244  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

concern  I  thus  first  heard  of  his  death."  Well  might  he  feel 
concern.  His  cold  neglect  had  doubtless  contributed  to 
madden  the  spirit  of  that  youthful  genius,  and  hurry  him 
towards  his  untimely  end ;  nor  have  all  the  excuses  and 
5  palliations  of  Walpole's  friends  and  admirers  been  ever 
able  entirely  to  clear  this  stigma  from  his  fame. 

But  what  was  there  in  the  enthusiasm  and  credulity  of 
honest  Goldsmith  in  this  matter,  to  subject  him  to  the  laugh 
of  Johnson  or  the  raillery  of  Walpole  ?  Granting  the  poems 

10  were  not  ancient,  were  they  not  good  ?  Granting  they  were 
not  the  productions  of  Rowley,  were  they  the  less  admirable 
for  being  the  productions  of  Chatterton  ?  Johnson  himself 
testified  to  their  merits  and  the  genius  of  their  composer, 
when,  some  years  afterwards,  he  visited  the  tower  of  Redcliffe 

15  Church,  and  was  shown  the  coffer  in  which  poor  Chatterton 
had  pretended  to  find  them.  "  This,"  said  he,  "  is  the  most 
extraordinary  young  man  that  has  encountered  my  knowledge. 
//  is  wonder/til  how  the  whelp  has  written  such  things" 

As  to  Goldsmith,  he  persisted  in  his  credulity,  and  had 

20  subsequently  a  dispute  with  Dr.  Percy  on  the  subject,  which 
interrupted  and  almost  destroyed  their  friendship.  After  all, 
his  enthusiasm  was  of  a  generous,  poetic  kind ;  the  poems 
remain  beautiful  monuments  of  genius,  and  it  is  even  now 
difficult  to  persuade  one's  self  that  they  could  be  entirely 

25  the  productions  of  a  youth  of  sixteen. 

In  the  month  of  August  was  published  anonymously  the 
"History  of  England,"  on  which  Goldsmith  had  been  for 
some  time  employed.  It  was  in  four  volumes,  compiled 
chiefly,  as  he  acknowledged  in  the  preface,  from  Rapin, 

30  Carte,  Smollett,  and  Hume,  "  each  of  whom,"  says  he,  "  have 
their  admirers,  in  proportion  as  the  reader  is  studious  of 
political  antiquities,  fond  of  minute  anecdote,  a  warm  par- 
tisan, or  a  deliberate  reasoner."  It  possessed  the  same  kind 
of  merit  as  his  other  historical  compilations  ;  a  clear,  succinct 


THE   "HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND 


245 


narrative,  a  simple,  easy,  and  graceful  style,  and  an  agreeable 
arrangement  of  facts;  but  was  not  remarkable  for  either 
depth  of  observation  or  minute  accuracy  of  research.  Many 
passages  were  transferred,  with  little  if  any  alteration,  from 
his  "  Letters  from  a  Nobleman  to  his  Son  "  on  the  same  sub-  5 
ject.  The  work,  though  written  without  party  feeling,  met 
with  sharp  animadversions  from  political  scribblers.  The 
writer  was  charged  with  being  unfriendly  to  liberty,  disposed 
to  elevate  monarchy  above  its  proper  sphere ;  a  tool  of  min- 
isters ;  one  who  would  betray  his  country  for  a  pension.  10 
Tom  Davies,  the  publisher,  the  pompous  little  bibliopole  of 
Russell  Street,  alarmed  lest  the  book  should  prove  unsalable, 
undertook  to  protect  it  by  his  pen,  and  wrote  a  long  arti- 
cle in  its  defence  in  The  Public  Advertiser.  He  was  vain 
of  his  critical  effusion,  and  sought  by  nods  and  winks  and  15 
innuendoes  to  intimate  his  authorship.  "  Have  you  seen," 
said  he,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  " '  An  Impartial  Account  of 
Goldsmith's  History  of  England '  ?  If  you  want  to  know 
who  was  the  writer  of  it,  you  will  find  him  in  Russell  Street ; 
—  but  mum!"  2° 

The  History,  on  the  whole,  however,  was  well  received ; 
some  of  the  critics  declared  that  English  history  had  never 
before  been  so  usefully,  so  elegantly,  and  agreeably  epit- 
omized, "  and,  like  his  other  historical  writings,  it  has  kept 
its  ground"  in  English  literature.  25 

Goldsmith  had  intended  this  summer,  in  company  with 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  to  pay  a  visit  to  Bennet  Langton,  at 
his  seat  in  Lincolnshire,  where  he  was  settled  in  domestic 
life,  having  the  year  previously  married  the  Countess  Dowager 
of  Rothes.  The  following  letter,  however,  dated  from  his  30 
chambers  in  the  Temple,  on  the  yth  of  September,  apologizes 
for  putting  off  the  visit,  while  it  gives  an  amusing  account  of 
his  summer  occupations  and  of  the  attacks  of  the  critics  on 
his  "  History  of  England  "  :  — 


246  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR,  — 

"  Since  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  last,  I  have  been 
almost  wholly  in  the  country,  at  a  farmer's  house,  quite  alone, 
trying  to  write  a  comedy.  It  is  now  finished ;  but  when  or 
5  how  it  will  be  acted,  or  whether  it  will  be  acted  at  all,  are 
questions  I  cannot  resolve.  I  am  therefore  so  much  employed 
upon  that,  that  I  am  under  the  necessity  of  putting  off  my 
intended  visit  to  Lincolnshire  for  this  season.  Reynolds  is 
just  returned  from  Paris,  and  finds  himself  now  in  the  case 

10  of  a  truant  that  must  make  up  for  his  idle  time  by  diligence. 
We  have  therefore  agreed  to  postpone  our  journey  till  next 
summer,  when  we  hope  to  have  the  honor  of  waiting  upon 
Lady  Rothes  and  you,  and  staying  double  the  time  of  our 
late  intended  visit.  We  often  meet,  and  never  without 

15  remembering  you.  I  see  Mr.  Beauclerc  very  often  both  in 
town  and  country.  He  is  now  going  directly  forward  to 
become  a  second  Boyle :  deep  in  chemistry  and  physics. 
Johnson  has  been  down  on  a  visit  to  a  country  parson, 
Doctor  Taylor,  and  is  returned  to  his  old  haunts  at  Mrs. 

20  Thrale's.  Burke  is  a  farmer,  en  attendant  a  better  place ; 
but  visiting  about  too.  Every  soul  is  visiting  about  and 
merry  but  myself.  And  that  is  hard  too,  as  I  have  been 
trying  these  three  months  to  do  something  to  make  people 
laugh.  There  have  I  been  strolling  about  the  hedges,  study- 

25  ing  jests  with  a  most  tragical  countenance.  The  "  Natural 
History  "  is  about  half  finished,  and  I  will  shortly  finish  the 
rest.  God  knows  I  am  tired  of  this  kind  of  finishing,  which 
is  but  bungling  work ;  and  that  not  so  much  my  fault  as  the 
fault  of  my  scurvy  circumstances.  They  begin  to  talk  in 

3°  town  of  the  Opposition's  gaining  ground;  the  cry  of  liberty 
is  still  as  loud  as  ever.  I  have  published,  or  Davies  has 
published  for  me,  an  "Abridgment  of  the  History  of  Eng- 
land," for  which  I  have  been  a  good  deal  abused  in  the 
newspapers,  for  betraying  the  liberties  of  the  people.  God 


LETTER  TO   LANGTON  247 

knows  I  had  no  thought  for  or  against  liberty  in  my  head ; 
my  whole  aim  being  to  make  up  a  book  of  a  decent  size, 
that,  as  'Squire  Richard  says,  would  do  no  harm  to  nobody. 
However,  they  set  me  down  as  an  arrant  Tory,  and  conse- 
quently an  honest  man.  When  you  come  to  look  at  any  5 
part  of  it,  you  '11  say  that  I  am  a  sore  Whig.  God  bless  you, 
and  with  my  most  respectful  compliments  to  her  Ladyship, 
I  remain,  dear  Sir,  your  most  affectionate  humble  servant, 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 


TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Does  Goldsmith  state  fairly  what  must  have  been  his  real  aim  in 
the  "  History  of  England  "  ?     Irving  says  that  this  abridgment  has  kept 
its  ground  in  English  literature.     What  qualities  must  a  history  possess 
in  order  to  be  considered  literature  ?     Is  all  written  history  literature  ? 

2.  When  were  the  two  projected  works  that  are  mentioned  in  Gold- 
smith's letter  to  Bennet  Langton  finally  published  ? 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

Marriage  of  Little  Comedy  —  Goldsmith  at   Barton  —  Practical  Jokes  at  the 
Expense  of  his  Toilet — Amusements  at  Barton  —  Aquatic  Misadventure. 

Though  Goldsmith  found  it  impossible  to  break  from  his 
literary  occupations  to  visit  Bennet  Langton,  in  Lincoln- 
shire, he  soon  yielded  to  attractions  from  another  quarter, 
in  which  somewhat  of  sentiment  may  have  mingled.  Miss 

5  Catherine  Horneck,  one  of  his  beautiful  fellow-travellers, 
otherwise  called  Little  Comedy,  had  been  married  in  August 
to  Henry  William  Bunbury,  Esq.,  a  gentleman  of  fortune, 
who  has  become  celebrated  for  the  humorous  productions 
of  his  pencil.  Goldsmith  was  shortly  afterwards  invited  to 

10  pay  the  newly  married  couple  a  visit  at  their  seat,  at  Barton, 
in  Suffolk.  How  could  he  resist  such  an  invitation  —  espe- 
cially as  the  Jessamy  Bride  would,  of  course,  be  among  the 
guests  ?  It  is  true,  he  was  hampered  with  work ;  he  was 
still  more  hampered  with  debt ;  his  accounts  with  Newbery 

15  were  perplexed;  but  all  must  give  way.  New  advances  are 
procured  from  Newbery,  on  the  promise  of  a  new  tale  in  the 
style  of  the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  of  which  he  showed  him 
a  few  roughly-sketched  chapters;  so,  his  purse  replenished 
in  the  old  way,  "  by  hook  or  by  crook,"  he  posted  off  to 

20  visit  the  bride  at  Barton.  He  found  there  a  joyous  house- 
hold, and  one  where  he  was  welcomed  with  affection.  Gar- 
rick  was  there,  and  played  the  part  of  master  of  the  revels, 
for  he  was  an  intimate  friend  of  the  master  of  the  house. 
Notwithstanding  early  misunderstandings,  a  social  inter- 

25  course  between  the  actor  and  the  poet  had  grown  up  of  late, 
from  meeting  together  continually  in  the  same  circle.  A 

248 


VISIT   TO   BARTON 


249 


few  particulars  have  reached  us  concerning  Goldsmith  while 
on  this  happy  visit.  We  believe  the  legend  has  come  down 
from  Miss  Mary  Horneck  herself.  "  While  at  Barton,"  she 
says,  "  his  manners  were  always  playful  and  amusing,  taking 
the  lead  in  promoting  any  scheme  of  innocent  mirth,  and  5 
usually  prefacing  the  invitation  with  '  Come,  now,  let  us  play 
the  fool  a  little.'  At  cards,  which  was  commonly  a  round 
game,  and  the  stake  small,  he  was  always  the  most  noisy, 
affected  great  eagerness  to  win,  and  teased  his  opponents  of 
the  gentler  sex  with  continual  jest  and  banter  on  their  want  10 
of  spirit  in  not  risking  the  hazards  of  the  game.  But  one  of 
his  most  favorite  enjoyments  was  to  romp  with  the  children, 
when  he  threw  off  all  reserve,  and  seemed  one  of  the  most 
joyous  of  the  group. 

"  One  of  the  means  by  which  he  amused  us  was  his  songs,  15 
chiefly  of  the  comic  kind,  which  were  sung  with  some  taste 
and  humor ;  several,  I  believe,  were  of  his  own  composi- 
tion, and  I  regret  that  I  neither  have  copies,  which  might 
have  been  readily  procured  from  him  at  the  time,  nor  do  I 
remember  their  names."  20 

His  perfect  good-humor  made  him  the  object  of  tricks  of 
all  kinds ;  often  in  retaliation  of  some  prank  which  he  him- 
self had  played  off.  Unluckily,  these  tricks  were  sometimes 
made  at  the  expense  of  his  toilet,  which,  with  a  view  perad- 
venture  to  please  the  eye  of  a  certain  fair  lady,  he  had  again  25 
enriched  to  the  impoverishment  of  his  purse.  "  Being  at  all 
times  gay  in  his  dress,"  says  this  ladylike  legend,  "  he  made 
his  appearance  at  the  breakfast-table  in  a  smart  black  silk 
coat  with  an  expensive  pair  of  ruffles;  the  coat  some  one 
contrived  to  soil,  and  it  was  sent  to  be  cleansed ;  but,  either  30 
by  accident,  or  probably  by  design,  the  day  after  it  came 
home,  the  sleeves  became  daubed  with  paint,  which  was  not 
discovered  until  the  ruffles  also,  to  his  great  mortification, 
were  irretrievably  disfigured. 


250  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

"  He  always  wore  a  wig,  a  peculiarity  which  those  who 
judge  of  his  appearance  only  from  the  fine  poetical  head 
of  Reynolds  would  not  suspect ;  and  on  one  occasion  some 
person  contrived  seriously  to  injure  this  important  adjunct 

5  to  dress.  It  was  the  only  one  he  had  in  the  country,  and 
the  misfortune  seemed  irreparable  until  the  services  of 
Mr.  Bunbury's  valet  were  called  in,  who,  however,  performed 
his  functions  so  indifferently,  that  poor  Goldsmith's  appear- 
ance became  the  signal  for  a  general  smile." 

10  This  was  wicked  waggery,  especially  when  it  was  directed 
to  mar  all  the  attempts  of  the  unfortunate  poet  to  im- 
prove his  personal  appearance,  about  which  he  was  at  all 
times  dubiously  sensitive,  and  particularly  when  among  the 
ladies. 

15  We  have  in  a  former  chapter  recorded  his  unlucky  tumble 
into  a  fountain  at  Versailles,  when  attempting  a  feat  of 
agility  in  presence  of  the  fair  Hornecks.  Water  was  des- 
tined to  be  equally  baneful  to  him  on  the  present  occa- 
sion. "  Some  difference  of  opinion,"  says  the  fair  narrator, 

20  "having  arisen  with  Lord  Harrington  respecting  the  depth 
of  a  pond,  the  poet  remarked  that  it  was  not  so  deep  but 
that,  if  anything  valuable  was  to  be  found  at  the  bottom,  he 
would  not  hesitate  to  pick  it  up.  His  lordship,  after  some 
banter,  threw  in  a  guinea ;  Goldsmith,  not  to  be  outdone  in 

25  this  kind  of  bravado,  in  attempting  to  fulfil  his  promise  with- 
out getting  wet,  accidentally  fell  in,  to  the  amusement  of  all 
present,  but  persevered,  brought  out  the  money,  and  kept  it, 
remarking  that  he  had  abundant  objects  on  whom  to  bestow 
any  farther  proofs  of  his  lordship's  whim  or  bounty." 

30  All  this  is  recorded  by  the  beautiful  Mary  Horneck,  the 
Jessamy  Bride  herself;  but  while  she  gives  these  amusing 
pictures  of  poor  Goldsmith's  eccentricities,  and  of  the  mis- 
chievous pranks  played  off  upon  him,  she  bears  unqualified 
testimony,  which  we  have  quoted  elsewhere,  to  the  qualities 


THE   UNFINISHED   NOVEL  251 

of  his  head  and  heart,  which  shone  forth  in  his  countenance, 
and  gained  him  the  love  of  all  who  knew  him. 

Among  the  circumstances  of  this  visit  vaguely  called  to 
mind  by  this  fair  lady  in  after  years,  was  that  Goldsmith 
read  to  her  and  her  sister  the  first  part  of  a  novel  which  he    5 
had  in  hand.     It  was  doubtless  the  manuscript  mentioned 
at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  on  which  he  had  obtained 
an  advance  of  money  from  Newbery  to  stave  off  some  press- 
ing debts,  and  to  provide  funds  for  this  very  visit.     It  never 
was  finished.     The  bookseller,  when  he  came  afterwards  to  10 
examine  the  manuscript,  objected  to  it  as  a  mere  narrative 
version  of  the  "  Good-Natured  Man."    Goldsmith,  too  easily 
put  out  of  conceit  of  his  writings,  threw   it  aside,  forget- 
ting that  this  was  the  very  Newbery  who  kept  his  "Vicar 
of  Wakefield  "  by  him  nearly  two  years,  through  doubts  of  15 
its  success.     The  loss  of  the   manuscript  is  deeply  to  be 
regretted ;  it  doubtless  would  have  been  properly  wrought 
up  before  given  to  the  press,  and  might  have  given  us  new 
scenes  of  life  and  traits  of  character,  while  it  could  not  fail 
to  bear  traces  of  his  delightful  style.     What  a  pity  he  had  20 
not  been  guided  by  the  opinions  of  his  fair  listeners  at 
Barton,  instead  of  that  of  the  astute  Mr.  Newbery! 


QUESTION 
I.   Why  did  all  who  knew  Goldsmith  love  him  ? 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

Dinner  at  General  Oglethorpe's  —  Anecdotes  of  the  General  —  Dispute  about 
Duelling  —  Ghost  Stories. 

We  have  mentioned  old  General  Oglethorpe  as  one  of 
Goldsmith's  aristocratical  acquaintances.  The  veteran,  born 
in  1698,  had  commenced  life  early,  by  serving,  when  a  mere 
stripling,  under  Prince  Eugene,  against  the  Turks.  He  had 
5  continued  in  military  life,  and  been  promoted  to  the  rank  of 
major-general  in  1745,  and  received  a  command  during  the 
Scottish  rebellion.  Being  of  strong  Jacobite  tendencies, 
he  was  suspected  and  accused  of  favoring  the  rebels ;  and 
though  acquitted  by  a  court  of  inquiry,  was  never  afterwards 

10  employed ;  or,  in  technical  language,  was  shelved.  He  had 
since  been  repeatedly  a  member  of  Parliament,  and  had 
always  distinguished  himself  by  learning,  taste,  active  benev- 
olence, and  high  Tory  principles.  His  name,  however,  has 
become  historical,  chiefly  from  his  transactions  in  America, 

15  and  the  share  he  took  in  the  settlement  of  the  colony  of 
Georgia.  It  lies  embalmed  in  honorable  immortality  in  a 
single  line  of  Pope's  :  — 

"  One,  driven  by  strong  benevolence  of  soul, 
Shall  fly,  like  Oglethorpe,  from  pole  to  pole." 

20  The  veteran  was  now  seventy-four  years  of  age,  but 
healthy  and  vigorous,  and  as  much  the  preux  chevalier  as 
in  his  younger  days,  when  he  served  with  Prince  Eugene. 
His  table  was  often  the  gathering-place  of  men  of  talent. 
Johnson  was  frequently  there,  and  delighted  in  drawing  from 

25  the  General  details  of  his  various  "experiences."  He  was 
anxious  that  he  should  give  the  world  his  life.  "  I  know  no 

252 


DINNER  AT  GENERAL  OGLETHORPE'S       253 

man,"  said  he,  "whose  life  would  be  more  interesting." 
Still  the  vivacity  of  the  General's  mind  and  the  variety 
of  his  knowledge  made  him  skip  from  subject  to  subject 
too  fast  for  the  Lexicographer.  "  Oglethorpe,"  growled  he, 
"  never  completes  what  he  has  to  say."  5 

Boswell  gives  us  an  interesting  and  characteristic  account 
of  a  dinner-party  at  the  General's,  (April  ioth,  1772,)  at 
which  Goldsmith  and  Johnson  were  present.  After  dinner, 
when  the  cloth  was  removed,  Oglethorpe,  at  Johnson's 
request,  gave  an  account  of  the  siege  of  Belgrade,  in  the  10 
true  veteran  style.  Pouring  a  little  wine  upon  the  table,  he 
drew  his  lines  and  parallels  with  a  wet  finger,  describing 
the  positions  of  the  opposing  forces.  "Here  were  we  — 
here  were  the  Turks,"  to  all  which  Johnson  listened  with 
the  most  earnest  attention,  poring  over  the  plans  and  15 
diagrams  with  his  usual  purblind  closeness. 

In  the  course  of  conversation  the  General  gave  an  anec- 
dote of  himself  in  early  life,  when  serving  under  Prince 
Eugene.  Sitting  at  table  once  in  company  with  a  prince  of 
Wurtemberg,  the  latter  gave  a  fillip  to  a  glass  of  wine,  so  as  20 
to  make  some  of  it  fly  in  Oglethorpe's  face.  The  manner 
in  which  it  was  done  was  somewhat  equivocal.  How  was 
it  to  be  taken  by  the  stripling  officer?  If  seriously,  he 
must  challenge  the  Prince  ;  but  in  so  doing  he  might  fix 
on  himself  the  character  of  a  drawcansir.  If  passed  over  25 
without  notice,  he  might  be  charged  with  cowardice.  His 
mind  was  made  up  in  an  instant.  "  Prince,"  said  he,  smil- 
ing, "  that  is  an  excellent  joke ;  but  we  do  it  much  better  in 
England."  So  saying  he  threw  a  whole  glass  of  wine  in  the 
Prince's  face.  "  II  a  bien  fait,  mon  Prince,"  cried  an  old  30 
General  present,  "vous  1'avez  commence."  (He  has  done 
right,  my  Prince  ;  you  commenced  it.)  The  Prince  had  the 
good  sense  to  acquiesce  in  the  decision  of  the  veteran,  and 
Oglethorpe's  retort  in  kind  was  taken  in  good  part. 


254  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

It  was  probably  at  the  close  of  this  story  that  the  officious 
Boswell,  ever  anxious  to  promote  conversation  for  the  ben- 
efit of  his  note-book,  started  the  question  whether  duelling 
were  consistent  with  moral  duty.  The  old  General  fired  up 
5  in  an  instant.  "  Undoubtedly,"  said  he,  with  a  lofty  air ; 
"undoubtedly  a  man  has  a  right  to  defend  his  honor." 
Goldsmith  immediately  carried  the  war  into  Boswell's  own 
quarters,  and  pinned  him  with  the  question,  "  what  he  would 
do  if  affronted  ?  "  The  pliant  Boswell,  who  for  the  moment 

10  had  the  fear  of  the  General  rather  than  of  Johnson  before 
Tiis  eyes,  replied,  "he  should  think  it  necessary  to  fight." 
"  Why,  then,  that  solves  the  question,"  replied  Goldsmith. 
"  No,  sir  !  "  thundered  out  Johnson  ;  "  it  does  not  follow 
that  what  a  man  would  do,  is  therefore  right."  He,  how- 

15  ever,  subsequently  went  into  a  discussion  to  show  that  there 
were  necessities  in  the  case  arising  out  of  the  artificial 
refinement  of  society,  and  its  proscription  of  any  one  who 
should  put  up  with  an  affront  without  fighting  a  duel. 
"  He,  then,"  concluded  he,  "  who  fights  a  duel  does  not  fight 

20  from  passion  against  his  antagonist,  but  out  of  self-defence, 
to  avert  the  stigma  of  the  world,  and  to  prevent  himself 
from  being  driven  out  of  society.  I  could  wish  there  were 
not  that  superfluity  of  refinement ;  but  while  such  notions 
prevail,  no  doubt  a  man  may  lawfully  fight  a  duel." 

25  Another  question  started  was,  whether  people  who  disa- 
greed on  a  capital  point  could  live  together  in  friendship. 
Johnson  said  they  might.  Goldsmith  said  they  could  not, 
as  they  had  not  the  idem  velle  atque  idem  nolle  —  the  same 
likings  and  aversions.  Johnson  rejoined,  that  they  must 

30  shun  the  subject  on  which  they  disagreed.  "  But,  sir," 
said  Goldsmith,  "  when  people  live  together  who  have  some- 
thing as  to  which  they  disagree,  and  which  they  want  to 
shun,  they  will  be  in  the  situation  mentioned  in  the  story  of 
Blue  Beard  :  'you  may  look  into  all  the  chambers  but  one  '; 


GHOST   STORIES 


255 


but  we  should  have  the  greatest  inclination  to  look  into  that 
chamber,  to  talk  of  that  subject."  "  Sir,"  thundered  John- 
son, in  a  loud  voice,  "  I  am  not  saying  that  you  could  live 
in  friendship  with  a  man  from  whom  you  differ  as  to  some 
point ;  1  am  only  saying  that  /could  do  it."  c 

Who  will  not  say  that  Goldsmith  had  the  best  of  this 
petty  contest  ?  How  just  was  his  remark  !  how  felicitous 
the  illustration  of  the  blue  chamber  !  how  rude  and  over- 
bearing was  the  argumentum  ad  hominem  of  Johnson,  when 
he  felt  that  he  had  the  worst  of  the  argument !  I0 

The  conversation  turned  upon  ghosts.  General  Ogle- 
thorpe  told  the  story  of  a  Colonel  Prendergast,  an  officer  in 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough's  army,  who  predicted  among  his 
comrades  that  he  should  die  on  a  certain  day.  The  battle  of 
Malplaquet  took  place  on  that  day.  The  Colonel  was  in  the  15 
midst  of  it,  but  came  out  unhurt.  The  firing  had  ceased, 
and  his  brother  officers  jested  with  him  about  the  fallacy  of 
his  prediction.  "The  day  is  not  over,"  replied  he,  gravely; 
"  I  shall  die  notwithstanding  what  you  see."  His  words 
proved  true.  The  order  for  a  cessation  of  firing  had  not  20 
reached  one  of  the  French  batteries,  and  a  random  shot 
from  it  killed  the  Colonel  on  the  spot.  Among  his  effects 
was  found  a  pocket-book  in  which  he  had  made  a  solemn 
entry,  that  Sir  John  Friend,  who  had  been  executed  for  high 
treason,  had  appeared  to  him,  either  in  a  dream  or  vision,  25 
and  predicted  that  he  would  meet  him  on  a  certain  day  (the 
very  day  of  the  battle).  Colonel  Cecil,  who  took  possession 
of  the  effects  of  Colonel  Prendergast,  and  read  the  entry  in 
the  pocket-book,  told  this  story  to  Pope,  the  poet,  in  the 
presence  of  General  Oglethorpe. 

This  story,  as  related  by  the  General,  appears  to  have 
been  well  received,  if  not  credited,  by  both  Johnson  and 
Goldsmith,  each  of  whom  had  something  to  relate  in  kind. 
Goldsmith's  brother,  the  clergyman  in  whom  he  had  such 


256  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

implicit  confidence,  had  assured  him  of  his  having  seen  an 
apparition..  Johnson  also  had  a  friend,  old  Mr.  Cave,  the 
printer,  at  St.  John's  Gate,  "  an  honest  man,  and  a  sensible 
man,"  who  told  him  he  had  seen  a  ghost ;  he  did  not,  how- 

5  ever,  like  to  talk  of  it,  and  seemed  to  be  in  great  horror  when- 
ever it  was  mentioned.  "And  pray,  sir,"  asked  Boswell, 
"  what  did  he  say  was  the  appearance  ? "  "  Why,  sir,  some- 
thing of  a  shadowy  being." 

The  reader  will  not  be  surprised  at  this  superstitious  turn 

10  in  the  conversation  of  such  intelligent  men,  when  he  recol- 
lects that,  but  a  few  years  before  this  time,  all  London  had 
been  agitated  by  the  absurd  story  of  the  Cock-lane  ghost ; 
a  matter  which  Dr.  Johnson  had  deemed  worthy  of  his 
serious  investigation,  and  about  which  Goldsmith  had  written 

15  a  pamphlet. 

TOPICS   AND    QUESTIONS 

1.  Narrate  what  happened  at  General  Oglethorpe's  dinner  party. 

2.  Are  ghost  stories  current  in  the  twentieth  century?     Have  you 
ever  heard  of  a  ghost's  troubling  the  community  in  which  you  live  ?    Are 
there  any  haunted  houses  ?    [Recall  the  story  of  the  Coverley  ghost  told 
about  in  the  "  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  Papers."] 

3.  Discuss  the  superstitions  that  hold  sway  among  people  of  your 
acquaintance.     Why  should  superstitions  be  less  common  now  than  in 
the  eighteenth  century? 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

Mr.  Joseph  Cradock  —  An  Author's   Confidings  —  An  Amanuensis  —  Life  at 
Edgeware  —  Goldsmith  Conjuring  —  George  Colman  —  The  Fantoccini. 

Among  the  agreeable  acquaintances  made  by  Goldsmith 
about  this  time  was  a  Mr.  Joseph  Cradock,  a  young  gentle- 
man of  Leicestershire,  living  at  his  ease,  but  disposed  to 
"  make  himself  uneasy,"  by  meddling  with  literature  and  the 
theatre ;  in  fact,  he  had  a  passion  for  plays  and  players,  and  5 
had  come  up  to  town  with  a  modified  translation  of  Voltaire's 
tragedy  of  "Zobeide,"  in  a  view  to  get  it  acted.  There  was 
no  great  difficulty  in  the  case,  as  he  was  a  man  of  fortune, 
had  letters  of  introduction  to  persons  of  note,  and  was  alto- 
gether in  a  different  position  from  the  indigent  man  of  genius  10 
whom  managers  might  harass  with  impunity.  Goldsmith  met 
him  at  the  house  of  Yates,  the  actor,  and  finding  that  he 
was  a  friend  of  Lord  Clare,  soon  became  sociable  with  him. 
Mutual  tastes  quickened  the  intimacy,  especially  as  they 
found  means  of  serving  each  other.  Goldsmith  wrote  an  15 
epilogue  for  the  tragedy  of  "Zobeide";  and  Cradock,  who 
was  an  amateur  musician,  arranged  the  music  for  the  "  Thre- 
nodia  Augustalis,"  a  Lament  on  the  death  of  the  Princess 
Dowager  of  Wales,  the  political  mistress  and  patron  of  Lord 
Clare,  which  Goldsmith  had  thrown  off  hastily  to  please  that  20 
nobleman.  The  tragedy  was  played  with  some  success  at 
Covent  Garden ;  the  Lament  was  recited  and  sung  at  Mrs. 
Cornelys'  rooms  —  a  very  fashionable  resort  in  Soho  Square, 
got  up  by  a  woman  of  enterprise  of  that  name.  It  was  in 
whimsical  parody  of  those  gay  and  somewhat  promiscuous  25 
assemblages  that  Goldsmith  used  to  call  the  motley  evening 
parties  at  his  lodgings  "  little  Cornelys." 

257 


258  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

The  "  Threnodia  Augustalis  "  was  not  publicly  known  to 
be  by  Goldsmith  until  several  years  after  his  death. 

Cradock  was  one  of  the  few  polite  intimates  who  felt 
more  disposed  to  sympathize  with  the  generous  qualities  of 
5  the  poet  than  to  sport  with  his  eccentricities.  He  sought 
his  society  whenever  he  came  to  town,  and  occasionally  had 
him  to  his  seat  in  the  country.  Goldsmith  appreciated  his 
sympathy,  and  unburdened  himself  to  him  without  reserve. 
Seeing  the  lettered  ease  in  which  this  amateur  author  was 

10  enabled  to  live,  and  the  time  he  could  bestow  on  the  elabo- 
ration of  a  manuscript,  "Ah  !  Mr.  Cradock,"  cried  he,  "think 
of  me,  that  must  write  a  volume  every  month ! "  He  com- 
plained to  him  of  the  attempts  made  by  inferior  writers,  and 
by  others  who  could  scarcely  come  under  that  denomination, 

15  not  only  to  abuse  and  depreciate  his  writings,  but  to  render 
him  ridiculous  as  a  man  ;  perverting  every  harmless  senti- 
ment and  action  into  charges  of  absurdity,  malice,  or  folly. 
"  Sir,"  said  he,  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart,  "  I  am  as  a  lion 
baited  by  curs !  " 

20  Another  acquaintance,  which  he  made  about  this  time, 
was  a  young  countryman  of  the  name  of  M'Donnell,  whom 
he  met  in  a  state  of  destitution,  and,  of  course,  befriended. 
The  following  grateful  recollections  of  his  kindness  and  his 
merits  were  furnished  by  that  person  in  after-years :  — 

25  "It  was  in  the  year  1772,"  writes  he,  "that  the  death  of 
my  elder  brother  —  when  in  London,  on  my  way  to  Ireland 
—  left  me  in  a  most  forlorn  situation;  I  was  then  about 
eighteen;  I  possessed  neither  friends  nor  money,  nor  the 
means  of  getting  to  Ireland,  of  which  or  of  England  I  knew 

30  scarcely  anything,  from  having  so  long  resided  in  France. 
In  this  situation  I  had  strolled  about  for  two  or  three  days, 
considering  what  to  do,  but  unable  to  come  to  any  determi- 
nation, when  Providence  directed  me  to  the  Temple  Gardens. 
I  threw  myself  on  a  seat,  and,  willing  to  forget  my  miseries 


RECOLLECTIONS   OF  M'DONNELL  259 

for  a  moment,  drew  out  a  book ;  that  book  was  a  volume  of 
Boileau.  I  had  not  been  there  long  when  a  gentleman, 
strolling  about,  passed  near  me,  and  observing,  perhaps, 
something  Irish  or  foreign  in  my  garb  or  countenance, 
addressed  me :  '  Sir,  you  seem  studious ;  I  hope  you  find  5 
this  a  favorable  place  to  pursue  it.'  '  Not  very  studious,  sir; 
I  fear  it  is  the  want  of  society  that  brings  me  hither ;  I  am 
solitary  and  unknown  in  this  metropolis';  and  a  passage 
from  Cicero — Oratio  pro  Archia  —  occurring  to  me,  I  quoted 
it :  '  Haec  studia  pernoctant  nobiscum,  peregrinantur,  rusti-  10 
cantur.'  'You  are  a  schola^,  too,  sir,  I  perceive.'  'A  piece 
of  one,  sir;  but  I  ought  still  to  have  been  in  the  college 
where  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  pick  up  the  little  I  know.' 
A  good  deal  of  conversation  ensued ;  I  told  him  part  of  my 
history,  and  he,  in  return,  gave  his  address  in  the  Temple,  15 
desiring  me  to  call  soon,  from  which,  to  my  infinite  surprise 
and  gratification,  I  found  that  the  person  who  thus  seemed 
to  take  an  interest  in  my  fate  was  my  countryman,  and  a 
distinguished  ornament  of  letters. 

"  I  did  not  fail  to  keep  the  appointment,  and  was  received  20 
in  the  kindest  manner.     He  told  me,  smilingly,  that  he  was 
not  rich ;  that  he  could  do  little  for  me  in  direct  pecuniary 
aid,  but  would  endeavor  to  put  me  in  the  way  of  doing  some- 
thing for  myself;  observing,  that  he  could  at  least  furnish 
me  with  advice  not  wholly  useless  to  a  young  man  placed  in  25 
the  heart  of  a  great  metropolis.     '  In  London,'  he  continued, 
'  nothing  is  to  be  got  for  nothing ;  you  must  work ;  and  no 
man  who  chooses  to  be  industrious  need  be  under  obliga- 
tions to  another,  for  here  labor  of  every  kind  commands  its 
reward.     If  you  think  proper  to  assist  me  occasionally  as  30 
amanuensis,  I  shall  be  obliged,  and  you  will  be  placed  under 
no  obligation,  until  something  more  permanent  can  be  secured 
for  you.'     This  employment,  which  I  pursued  for  some  time, 
was  to  translate  passages  from  Buffon,  which  were  abridged 


260  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

or    altered,   according   to    circumstances,   for  his   '  Natural 
History.'  " 

Goldsmith's  literary  tasks  were  fast  getting  ahead  of  him, 
and  he  began  now  to  "  toil  after  them  in  vain." 
5  Five  volumes  of  the  "  Natural  History  "  here  spoken  of 
had  long  since' been  paid  for  by  Mr.  Griffin,  yet  most  of  them 
were  still  to  be  written.  His  young  amanuensis  bears  testi- 
mony to  his  embarrassments  and  perplexities,  but  to  the 
degree  of  equanimity  with  which  he  bore  them :  — 

10  "It  has  been  said,"  observes  he,  "that  he  was  irritable. 
Such  may  have  been  the  case  ac  times ;  nay,  I  believe  it  was 
so ;  for  what  with  the  continual  pursuit  of  authors,  printers, 
and  booksellers,  and  occasional  pecuniary  embarrassments, 
few  could  have  avoided  exhibiting  similar  marks  of  impa- 

15  tience.  But  it  was  never  so  towards  me.  I  saw  him  only  in 
his  bland  and  kind  moods,  with  a  flow,  perhaps  an  overflow, 
of  the  milk  of  human  kindness  for  all  who  were  in  any  man- 
ner dependent  upon  him.  I  looked  upon  him  with  awe  and 
veneration,  and  he  upon  me  as  a  kind  parent  upon  a  child. 

20  "  His  manner  and  address  exhibited  much  frankness  and 
cordiality,  particularly  to  those  with  whom  he  possessed  any 
degree  of  intimacy.  His  good-nature  was  equally  apparent. 
You  could  not  dislike  the  man,  although  several  of  his  follies 
and  foibles  you  might  be  tempted  to  condemn.  He  was  gen- 

25  erous  and  inconsiderate  ;  money  with  him  had  little  value." 

To  escape  from  many  of  the  tormentors  just  alluded  to, 
and  to  devote  himself  without  interruption  to  his  task,  Gold- 
smith took  lodgings  for  the  summer  at  a  farm-house  near 
the  six-mile  stone  on  the  Edgeware  road,  and  carried  down 

30  his  books  in  two  return  post-chaises.  He  used  to  say  he 
believed  the  farmer's  family  thought  him  an  odd  character, 
similar  to  that  in  which  the  Spectator  appeared  to  his  land- 
lady and  her  children  ;  he  was  The  Gentleman.  Boswell  tells 
us  that  he  went  to  visit  him  at  the  place  in  company  with 


LIFE  AT   EDGE  WARE  26 1 

Mickle,  translator  of  the  "  Lusiad."  Goldsmith  was  not  at 
home.  Having  a  curiosity  to  see  his  apartment,  however, 
they  went  in,  and  found  curious  scraps  of  descriptions  of 
animals  scrawled  upon  the  wall  with  a  black  lead  pencil. 

The  farm-house  in  question  is  still  in  existence,  though  5 
much  altered.  It  stands  upon  a  gentle  eminence  in  Hyde 
Lane,  commanding  a  pleasant  prospect  towards  Hendon. 
The  room  is  still  pointed  out  in  which  "  She  Stoops  to  Con- 
quer "  was  written  ;  a  convenient  and  airy  apartment,  up 
one  flight  of  stairs.  10 

Some  matter-of-fact  traditions  concerning  the  author  were 
furnished,  a  few  years  since,  by  a  son  of  the  farmer,  who 
was  sixteen  years  of  age  at  the  time  Goldsmith  resided 
with  his  father.  Though  he  had  engaged  to  board  with 
the  family,  his  meals  were  generally  sent  to  him  in  his  room,  15 
in  which  he  passed  the  most  of  his  time,  negligently  dressed, 
with  his  shirt-collar  open,  busily  engaged  in  writing.  Some- 
times, probably  when  in  moods  of  composition,  he  would 
wander  into  the  kitchen,  without  noticing  any  one,  stand 
musing  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  and  then  hurry  off  again  20 
to  his  room,  no  doubt  to  commit  to  paper  some  thought 
which  had  struck  him. 

Sometimes  he  strolled  about  the  fields,  or  was  to  be  seen 
loitering  and  reading  and  musing  under  the  hedges.     He 
was  subject  to  fits  of  wakefulness,  and  read  much  in  bed;  25 
if  not  disposed  to  read,  he  still  kept  the  candle  burning ;  if 
he  wished  to  extinguish  it,  and  it  was  out  of  his  reach,  he 
flung  his  slipper  at  it,  which  would  be  found  in  the  morning 
near  the  overturned  candlestick  and  daubed  with  grease. 
He  was  noted  here,  as  everywhere  else,  for  his  charitable  30 
feelings.     No  beggar  applied  to  him  in  vain,  and  he  evinced 
on  all  occasions  great  commiseration  for  the  poor. 

He  had  the  use  of  the  parlor  to  receive  and  entertain 
company,  and  was  visited  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  Hugh 


262  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

Boyd,  the  reputed  author  of  "Junius,"  Sir  William  Cham- 
bers, and  other  distinguished  characters.  He  gave  occasion- 
ally, though  rarely,  a  dinner-party  ;  and  on  one  occasion, 
when  his  guests  were  detained  by  a  thunder-shower,  he  got 
5  up  a  dance,  and  carried  the  merriment  late  into  the  night. 

As  usual,  he  was  the  promoter  of  hilarity  among  the 
young,  and  at  one  time  took  the  children  of  the  house  to  see 
a  company  of  strolling  players  at  Hendon.  The  greatest 
amusement  to  the  party,  however,  was  derived  from  his  own 

10  jokes  on  the  road  and  his  comments  on  the  perform- 
ance, which  produced  infinite  laughter  among  his  youthful 
companions. 

Near  to  his  rural  retreat  at  Edge  ware,  a  Mr.  Seguin,  an 
Irish  merchant,  of  literary  tastes,  had  country  quarters  for 

15  his  family,  where  Goldsmith  was  always  welcome. 

In  this  family  he  would  indulge  in  playful  and  even  gro- 
tesque humor,  and  was  ready  for  anything  —  conversa  ion, 
music,  or  a  game  of  romps.  He  prided  himself  upon  his 
dancing,  and  would  walk  a  minuet  with  Mrs.  Seguin,  to  the 

20  infinite  amusement  of  herself  and  the  children,  whose  shouts 
of  laughter  he  bore  with  perfect  good-humor.  He  would 
sing  Irish  songs,  and  the  Scotch  ballad  of  "  Johnny  Arm- 
strong." He  took  the  lead  in  the  children's  sports  of  blind- 
man's-buff,  hunt  the  slipper,  &c.,  or  in  their  games  at  cards, 

25  and  was  the  most  noisy  of  the  party,  affecting  to  cheat 
and  to  be  excessively  eager  to  win  ;  while  with  children  of 
smaller  size  he  would  turn  the  hind  part  of  his  wig  before, 
and  play  all  kinds  of  tricks  to  amuse  them. 

One  word  as  to  his  musical  skill  and  his  performance  on 

30  the  flute,  which  comes  up  so  invariably  in  all  his  fireside 
revels.  He  really  knew  nothing  of  music  scientifically ;  he 
had  a  good  ear,  and  may  have  played  sweetly  ;  but  we  are 
told  he  could  not  read  a  note  of  music.  Roubillac,  the 
statuary,  once  played  a  trick  upon  him  in  this  respect. 


GEORGE   COLMAN  — CONJURING  263 

He  pretended  to  score  down  an  air  as  the  poet  played  it, 
but  put  down  crotchets  and  semibreves  at  random.  When 
he  had  finished,  Goldsmith  cast  his  eyes  over  it  and  pro- 
nounced it  correct  !  It  is  possible  that  his  execution  in 
music  was  like  his  style  in  writing ;  in  sweetness  and  melody  5 
he  may  have  snatched  a  grace  beyond  the  reach  of  art ! 

He  was  at  all  times  a  capital  companion  for  children,  and 
knew  how  to  fall  in  with  their  humors.  "  I  little  thought," 
said  Miss  Hawkins,  the  woman  grown,  "what  I  should  have 
to  boast  when  Goldsmith  taught  me  to  play  Jack  and  Jill  10 
by  two  bits  of  paper  on  his  fingers."  He  entertained  Mrs. 
Garrick,  we  are  told,  with  a  whole  budget  of  stories  and 
songs;  delivered  the  "  Chimney  Sweep  "  with  exquisite  taste 
as  a  solo ;  and  performed  a  duet  with  Garrick  of  "Old  Rose 
and  Burn  the  Bellows."  .  15 

"  I  was  only  five  years  old,"  says  the  late  George  Colman, 
"  when  Goldsmith  one  evening,  when  drinking  coffee  with 
my  father,  took  me  on  his  knee  and  began  to  play  with 
me,  which  amiable  act  I  returned  with  a  very  smart  slap  in 
the  face  ;  it  must  have  been  a  tingler,  for  I  left  the  marks  20 
of  my  little  spiteful  paw  upon  his  cheek.  This  infantile 
outrage  was  followed  by  summary  justice,  and  I  was  locked 
up  by  my  father  in  an  adjoining  room,  to  undergo  solitary 
imprisonment  in  the  dark.  Here  I  began  to  howl  and 
scream  most  abominably.  At  length  a  friend  appeared  to  25 
extricate  me  from  jeopardy;  it  was  the  good-natured  Doctor 
himself,  with  a  lighted  candle  in  his  hand,  and  a  smile  upon 
his  countenance,  which  was  still  partially  red  from  the  effects 
of  my  petulance.  I  sulked  and  sobbed,  and  he  fondled  and 
soothed  until  I  began  to  brighten.  He  seized  the  propitious  30 
moment,  placed  three  hats  upon  the  carpet,  and  a  shilling 
under  each  ;  the  shillings,  he  told  me,  were  England,  France, 
and  Spain.  '  Hey,  presto,  cockolorum  ! '  cried  the  Doctor, 
and,  lo  !  on  uncovering  the  shillings,  they  were  all  found 


264  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

congregated  under  one.  I  was  no  politician  at  the  time, 
and  therefore  might  not  have  wondered  at  the  sudden  revo- 
lution which  brought  England,  France,  and  Spain  all  under 
one  crown  ;  but,  as  I  was  also  no  conjurer,  it  amazed  me 
5  beyond  measure.  From  that  time,  whenever  the  Doctor 
came  to  visit  my  father, 

" '  I  pluck'd  his  gown  to  share  the  good  man's  smile ' ; 

a  game  of  romps  constantly  ensued,  and  we  were  always 
cordial  friends  and  merry  playfellows." 

10  Although  Goldsmith  made  the  Edgeware  farm-house  his 
headquarters  for  the  summer,  he  would  absent  himself  for 
weeks  at  a  time  on  visits  to  Mr.  Cradock,  Lord  Clare,  and 
Mr.  Langton,  at  their  country-seats.  He  would  often  visit 
town,  also,  to  dine  and  partake  of  the  public  amusements. 

15  On  one  occasion  he  accompanied  Edmund  Burke  to  wit- 
ness a  performance  of  the  Italian  Fantoccini  or  Puppets, 
in  Panton  Street ;  an  exhibition  which  had  hit  the  caprice 
of  the  town,  and  was  in  a  great  vogue.  The  puppets  were 
set  in  motion  by  wires,  so  well  concealed  as  to  be  with  diffi- 

20  culty  detected.  Boswell,  with  his  usual  obtuseness  with 
respect  to  Goldsmith,  accuses  him  of  being  jealous  of  the 
puppets  !  "  When  Burke,"  said  he,  "  praised  the  dexterity 
with  which  one  of  them  tossed  a  pike,  '  Pshaw,'  said  Gold- 
smith with  some  warmth,  'I  can  do  it  better  myself.'  "  "The 

25  same  evening,"  adds  Boswell,  "  when  supping  at  Burke's 
lodgings,  he  broke  his  shin  by  attempting  to  exhibit  to  the 
company  how  much  better  he  could  jump  over  a  stick  than 
the  puppets." 

Goldsmith  jealous  of  puppets !     This  even  passes  in  ab- 

30  surdity  Boswell's  charge  upon  him  of  being  jealous  of  the 
beauty  of  the  two  Miss  Hornecks. 

The  Panton-Street  puppets  were  destined  to  be  a  source 
of  further  amusement  to  the  town,  and  of  annoyance  to  the 


THE    PUPPET-SHOW  265 

little  autocrat  of  the  stage.  Foote,  the  Aristophanes  of  the 
English  drama,  who  was  always  on  the  alert  to  turn  every 
subject  of  popular  excitement  to  account,  seeing  the  success 
of  the  Fantoccini,  gave  out  that  he  should  produce  a  Prim- 
itive Puppet-Show  at  the  Haymarket,  to  be  entitled  "The  5 
Handsome  Chambermaid,  or  Piety  in  Pattens  ";  intended  to 
burlesque  the  sentimental  comedy  which  Garrick  still  main- 
tained at  Drury  Lane.  The  idea  of  a  play  to  be  performed 
in  a  regular  theatre  by  puppets  excited  the  curiosity  and 
talk  of  the  town.  "  Will  your  puppets  be  as  large  as  life,  10 
Mr.  Foote?  "  demanded  a  lady  of  rank.  "Oh,  no,  my  lady," 
replied  Foote,  "not  much  larger  than  Garrick." 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Do  you  blame  Goldsmith  at  this  period  (about  1772)  for  being 
occasionally  irritable  ? 

2.  Gather   together   all    the   bad    qualities   of   Goldsmith   thus  far 
chronicled  by  Irving,  and  all  the  good  qualities. 

3.  Goldsmith's  fondness  for  children. 

4.  Write  a  composition  on  how  Goldsmith  spent  his  summers  for  a 
number  of  years  before  his  death. 

5.  New  acquaintances  of  Goldsmith  at  this  period. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

Broken  Health  —  Dissipation  and  Debts  —  The  Irish  Widow  —  Practical  Jokes 
—  Scrub — A  misquoted  Pun  —  Malagrida  —  Goldsmith  proved  to  be  a 
Fool  —  Distressed  Ballad-Singers  —  The  Poet  at  Ranelagh. 

Goldsmith  returned  to  town  in  the  autumn  (1772),  with 
his  health  much  disordered.  His  close  fits  of  sedentary 
application,  during  which  he  in  a  manner  tied  himself  to 
the  mast,  had  laid  the  seeds  of  a  lurking  malady  in  his 
5  system,  and  produced  a  severe  illness  in  the  course  of  the 
summer.  Town-life  was  not  favorable  to  the  health  either 
of  body  or  mind.  He  could  not  resist  the  siren  voice  of 
temptation,  which,  now  that  he  had  become  a  notoriety, 
assailed  him  on  every  side.  Accordingly  we  find  him 

10  launching  away  in  a  career  of  social  dissipation;  dining 
and  supping  out ;  at  clubs,  at  routs,  at  theatres  ;  he  is  a 
guest  with  Johnson  at  the  Thrales,  and  an  object  of  Mrs. 
Thrale's  lively  sallies  ;  he  is  a  lion  at  Mrs.  Vesey's  and 
Mrs.  Montagu's,  where  some  of  the  high-bred  blue-stockings 

15  pronounce  him  a  "wild  genius,"  and  others,  peradventure, 
a  "wild  Irishman."  In  the  mean  time  his  pecuniary  diffi- 
culties are  increasing  upon  him,  conflicting  with  his  prone- 
ness  to  pleasure  and  expense,  and  contributing  by  the 
harassment  of  his  mind  to  the  wear  and  tear  of  his  consti- 

20  tution.  His  "Animated  Nature,"  though  not  finished,  has 
been  entirely  paid  for,  and  the  money  spent.  The  money 
advanced  by  Garrick  on  Newbery's  note,  still  hangs  over 
him  as  a  debt.  The  tale  on  which  Newbery  had  loaned 
from  two  to  three  hundred  pounds  previous  to  the  excursion 

25  to  Barton,  has  proved  a  failure.  The  bookseller  is  urgent 
for  the  settlement  of  his  complicated  account ;  the  perplexed 

266 


DISSIPATION  AND   DEBTS  267 

author  has  nothing  to  offer  him  in  liquidation  but  the  copy- 
right of  the  comedy  which  he  has  in  his  portfolio;  "Though, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  Frank,"  said  he,  "there  are  great 
doubts  of  its  success."  The  offer  was  accepted,  and,  like 
bargains  wrung  from  Goldsmith  in  times  of  emergency,  5 
turned  out  a  golden  speculation  to  the  bookseller. 

In  this  way  Goldsmith  went  on   "overrunning  the  con- 
stable," as  he  termed  it ;  spending  everything  in  advance ; 
working  with  an  overtasked  head  and  weary  heart  to  pay 
for  past  pleasures  and  past  extravagance,  and  at  the  same  10 
time  incurring  new  debts,  to  perpetuate  his  struggles  and 
darken  his  future  prospects.     While  the  excitement  of  soci- 
ety and  the  excitement  of   composition  conspire  to  keep 
up  a  feverishness  of  the  system,  he  has  incurred  an  unfor- 
tunate habit  of  quacking  himself  with  James's  powders,  a  15 
fashionable  panacea  of  the  day. 

A  farce,  produced  this  year  by  Garrick,  and  entitled 
"The  Irish  Widow,"  perpetuates  the  memory  of  practical 
jokes  played  off  a  year  or  two  previously  upon  the  alleged 
vanity  of  poor,  simple-hearted  Goldsmith.  He  was  one  20 
evening  at  the  house  of  his  friend  Burke,  when  he  was  beset 
by  a  tenth  muse,  an  Irish  widow  and  authoress,  just  arrived 
from  Ireland,  full  of  brogue  and  blunders,  and  poetic  fire 
and  rantipole  gentility.  She  was  soliciting  subscriptions 
for  her  poems,  and  assailed  Goldsmith  for  his  patronage;  25 
the  great  Goldsmith  —  her  countryman,  and  of  course  her 
friend.  She  overpowered  him  with  eulogiums  on  his  own 
poems,  and  then  read  some  of  her  own,  with  vehemence 
of  tone  and  gesture,  appealing  continually  to  the  great 
Goldsmith  to  know  how  he  relished  them.  3° 

Poor  Goldsmith  did  all  that  a  kind-hearted  and  gallant 
gentleman  could  do  in  such  a  case ;  he  praised  her  poems 
as  far  as  the  stomach  of  his  sense  would  permit  —  perhaps 
a  little  further  ;  he  offered  her  his  subscription ;  and  it  was 


268  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

not  until  she  had  retired  with  many  parting  compliments  to 
the  great  Goldsmith,  that  he  pronounced  the  poetry  which 
had  been  inflicted  on  him  execrable.  The  whole  scene  had 
been  a  hoax  got  up  by  Burke  for  the  amusement  of  his  com- 

5  pany;  and  the  Irish  widow,  so  admirably  performed,  had 
been  personated  by  a  Mrs.  Balfour,  a  lady  of  his  connection, 
of  great  sprightliness  and  talent. 

We   see  nothing  in   the   story  to  establish   the  alleged 
vanity  of  Goldsmith,   but  we  think  it  tells  rather  to  the 

10  disadvantage  of  Burke, — being  unwarrantable  under  their 
relations  of  friendship,  and  a  species  of  waggery  quite 
beneath  his  genius. 

Croker,  in  his  notes  to  Boswell,  gives  another  of  these 
practical   jokes   perpetrated  by   Burke    at   the  expense  of 

15  Goldsmith's  credulity.  It  was  related  to  Croker  by  Colonel 
O'Moore,  of  Cloghan  Castle,  in  Ireland,  who  was  a  party 
concerned.  The  Colonel  and  Burke,  walking  one  day 
through  Leicester  Square  on  their  way  to  Sir  Joshua  Reyn- 
olds's,  with  whom  they  were  to  dine,  observed  Goldsmith, 

20  who  was  likewise  to  be  a  guest,  standing  and  regarding 
a  crowd  which  was  staring  and  shouting  at  some  foreign 
ladies  in  the  window  of  a  hotel.  "  Observe  Goldsmith,"  said 
Burke  to  O'Moore,  "  and  mark  what  passes  between  us  at 
Sir  Joshua's."  They  passed  on  and  reached  there  before 

25  him.  Burke  received  Goldsmith  with  affected  reserve  and 
coldness  ;  being  pressed  to  explain  the  reason,  "  Really," 
said  he,  "  I  am  ashamed  to  keep  company  with  a  per- 
son who  could  act  as  you  have  just  done  in  the  Square." 
Goldsmith  protested  he  was  ignorant  of  what  was  meant. 

30  "  Why,"  said  Burke,  "  did  you  not  exclaim,  as  you  were 
looking  up  at  those  women,  what  stupid  beasts  the  crowd 
must  be  for  staring  with  such  admiration  at  those  painted 
Jezebels,  while  a  man  of  your  talents  passed  by  unnoticed  ? " 
"  Surely,  surely,  my  dear  friend,"  cried  Goldsmith,  with 


PRACTICAL  JOKES  269 

alarm,  "  surely  I  did  not  say  so  ?  "  "  Nay,"  replied  Burke, 
"if  you  had  not  said  so,  how  should  I  have  known  it?" 
"That's  true,"  answered  Goldsmith,  "I  am  very  sorry — it 
was  very  foolish :  /  do  recollect  that  something  of  the  kind 
passed  through  my  mind,  but  I  did  not  think  I  had  uttered  it."  5 

It  is  proper  to  observe  that  these  jokes  were  played  off 
by  Burke  before  he  had  attained  the  full  eminence  of 
his  social  position,  and  that  he  may  have  felt  privileged  to 
take  liberties  with  Goldsmith  as  his  countryman  and  college 
associate.  It  is  evident,  however,  that  the  peculiarities  of  10 
the  latter,  and  his  guileless  simplicity,  made  him  a  butt  for 
the  broad  waggery  of  some  of  his  associates  ;  while  others 
more  polished,  though  equally  perfidious,  were  on  the  watch 
to  give  currency  to  his  bulls  and  blunders. 

The  Stratford  jubilee,  in  honor  of  Shakspeare,  where  Bos-  15 
well  had  made  a  fool  of  himself,  was  still  in  every  one's 
mind.      It  was  sportively  suggested  that  a  fete  should  be 
held  at  Litchfield  in  honor  of  Johnson  and  Garrick,  and 
that  the  "  Beaux  Stratagem  "  should  be  played  by  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Literary  Club.     "Then,"  exclaimed  Goldsmith,  20 
"  I  shall  certainly  play  Scrub.     I  should  like  of  all  things  to 
try  my  hand  at  that  character."     The  unwary  speech,  which 
any  one  else  might  have  made  without  comment,  has  been 
thought    worthy   of    record    as    whimsically   characteristic. 
Beauclerc  was  extremely  apt  to  circulate  anecdotes  at  his  25 
expense,   founded    perhaps    on   some   trivial   incident,  but 
dressed  up  with  the  embellishments  of  his  sarcastic  brain. 
One  relates  to  a  venerable  dish  of  peas,  served  up  at  Sir 
Joshua's  table,  which  should  have  been  green,  but  were  any 
other  color.     A  wag  suggested  to  Goldsmith,  in  a  whisper,  30 
that  they  should  be  sent  to  Hammersmith,  as  that  was  the 
way  to  turn-em-green  (Turnham  Green).    Goldsmith,  delighted 
with  the  pun,  endeavored  to  repeat  it  at  Burke's  table,  but 
missed  the  point.     "That  is  the  way  to  make  'em  green," 


2/0  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

said  he.  Nobody  laughed.  He  perceived  he  was  at  fault. 
"I  mean  that  is  the  road  to  turn  'em  green."  A  dead  pause 
and  a  stare;  —  "whereupon,"  adds  Beauclerc,  "he  started 
up  disconcerted  and  abruptly  left  the  table."  This  is  evi- 
5  dently  one  of  Beauclerc's  caricatures. 

On  another  occasion  the  poet  and  Beauclerc  were  seated 
at  the  theatre  next  to  Lord  Shelburne,  the  minister,  whom 
political  writers  thought  proper  to  nickname  Malagrida. 
"  Do  you  know,"  said  Goldsmith  to  his  lordship,  in  the 

10  course  of  conversation,  "  that  I  never  could  conceive  why 
they  call  you  Malagrida,./^  Malagrida  was  a  very  good  sort 
of  man."  This  was  too  good  a  trip  of  the  tongue  for  Beau- 
clerc to  let  pass  :  he  serves  it  up  in  his  next  letter  to  Lord 
Charlemont,  as  a  specimen  of  a  mode  of  turning  a  thought 

15  the  wrong  way,  peculiar  to  the  poet ;  he  makes  merry  over 
it  with  his  witty  and  sarcastic  compeer,  Horace  Walpole, 
who  pronounces  it  "a  picture  of  Goldsmith's  whole  life." 
Dr.  Johnson  alone,  when  he  hears  it  bandied  about  as  Gold- 
smith's last  blunder,  growls  forth  a  friendly  defence  :  "  Sir," 

20  said  he,  "it  was  a  mere  blunder  in  emphasis.  He  meant 
to  say,  I  wonder  they  should  use  Malagrida  as  a  term  of 
reproach."  Poor  Goldsmith  !  On  such  points  he  was  ever 
doomed  to  be  misinterpreted.  Rogers,  the  poet,  meeting 
in  times  long  subsequent  with  a  survivor  from  those  days, 

25  asked  him  what  Goldsmith  really  was  in  conversation.  The 
old  conventional  character  was  too  deeply  stamped  in  the 
memory  of  the  veteran  to  be  effaced.  "  Sir,"  replied  the 
old  wiseacre,  "he  was  a  fool.  The  right  word  never  came 
to  him.  If  you  gave  him  back  a  bad  shilling,  he  'd  say, 

30  Why,  it 's  as  good  a  shilling  as  ever  was  born.  You  know 
he  ought  to  have  said  coined.  Coined,  sir,  never  entered  his 
head.  He  -was  a  fool,  sir" 

We  have  so  many  anecdotes  in  which  Goldsmith's  sim- 
plicity is  played  upon,  that  it  is  quite  a  treat  to  meet  with 


BALLAD-SINGERS 

one  in  which  he  is  represented  playing  upon  the  simplicity 
of  others,  especially  when  the  victim  of  his  joke  is  the 
"  Great  Cham  "  himself,  whom  all  others  are  disposed  to 
hold  so  much  in  awe.  Goldsmith  and  Johnson  were  sup- 
ping cosily  together  at  a  tavern  in  Dean  Street,  Soho,  kept  5 
by  Jack  Roberts,  a  singer  at  Drury  Lane,  and  a  prote'ge'  of 
Garrick's.  Johnson  delighted  in  these  gastronomical  tete-a- 
tetes,  and  was  expatiating  in  high  good-humor  on  a  dish  of 
rumps  and  kidneys,  the  veins  of  his  forehead  swelling 
with  the  ardor  of  mastication.  "These,"  said  he,  "are  10 
pretty  little  things  ;  but  a  man  must  eat  a  great  many  of 
them  before  he  is  filled."  "  Aye  ;  but  how  many  of  them," 
asked  Goldsmith,  with  affected  simplicity,  "would  reach 
to  the  moon?"  "To  the  moon!  Ah,  sir,  that,  I  fear, 
exceeds  your  calculation."  "Not  at  all,  sir;  I  think  I  15 
could  tell."  "Pray,  then,  sir,  let  us  hear."  "Why,  sir, 
one,  if  it  were  long  enough!"  Johnson  growled  for  a  time 
at  finding  himself  caught  in  such  a  trite  schoolboy  trap. 
"  Well,  sir,"  cried  he  at  length,  "  I  have  deserved  it.  I 
should  not  have  provoked  so  foolish  an  answer  by  so  foolish  20 
a  question." 

Among  the  many  incidents  related  as  illustrative  of  Gold- 
smith's vanity  and  envy  is  one  which  occurred  one  evening 
when  he  was  in  a  drawing-room  with  a  party  of  ladies,  and 
a  ballad-singer  under  the  window  struck  up  his  favorite  song  25 
of  "  Sally  Salisbury."  "  How  miserably  this  woman  sings!" 
exclaimed  he.  "  Pray,  Doctor,"  said  the  lady  of  the  house, 
"  could  you  do  it  better  ?  "  "  Yes,  madam,  and  the  com- 
pany shall  be  judges."  The  company,  of  course,  prepared 
to  be  entertained  by  an  absurdity ;  but  their  smiles  were  30 
wellnigh  turned  to  tears,  for  he  acquitted  himself  with  a 
skill  and  pathos  that  drew  universal  applause.  He  had,  in 
fact,  a  delicate  ear  for  music,  which  had  been  jarred  by 
the  false  notes  of  the  ballad-singer ;  and  there  were  certain 


2/2  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

pathetic  ballads,  associated  with  recollections  of  his  child- 
hood, which  were  sure  to  touch  the  springs  of  his  heart. 
We  have  another  story  of  him,  connected  with  ballad-singing, 
which  is  still  more  characteristic.  He  was  one  evening  at 
5  the  house  of  Sir  William  Chambers,  in  Berners  Street,  seated 
at  a  whist-table  with  Sir  William,  Lady  Chambers,  and 
Baretti,  when  all  at  once  he  threw  down  his  cards,  hurried 
out  of  the  room  and  into  the  street.  He  returned  in  an 
instant,  resumed  his  seat,  and  the  game  went  on.  Sir  Wil- 

10  Ham,  after  a  little  hesitation,  ventured  to  ask  the  cause  of 
his  retreat,  fearing  he  had  been  overcome  by  the  heat  of  the 
room.  "Not  at  all,"  replied  Goldsmith;  "but  in  truth  I 
could  not  bear  to  hear  that  unfortunate  woman  in  the  street, 
half  singing,  half  sobbing,  for  such  tones  could  only  arise 

15  from  the  extremity  of  distress;  her  voice  grated  painfully 
on  my  ear  and  jarred  my  frame,  so  that  I  could  not  rest 
until  I  had  sent  her  away."  It  was  in  fact  a  poor  ballad- 
singer  whose  cracked  voice  had  been  heard  by  others  of 
the  party,  but  without  having  the  same  effect  on  their 

20  sensibilities.  It  was  the  reality  of  his  fictitious  scene  in 
the  story  of  the  "Man  in  Black";  wherein  he  describes  a 
woman  in  rags,  with  one  child  in  her  arms  and  another  on 
her  back,  attempting  to  sing  ballads,  but  with  such  a  mourn- 
ful voice  that  it  was  difficult  to  determine  whether  she  was 

25  singing  or  crying.  "  A  wretch,"  he  adds,  "  who,  in  the 
deepest  distress,  still  aimed  at  good-humor,  was  an  object 
my  friend  was  by  no  means  capable  of  withstanding."  The 
"  Man  in  Black  "  gave  the  poor  woman  all  that  he  had  — 
a  bundle  of  matches.  Goldsmith,  it  is  probable,  sent  his 

30  ballad-singer  away  rejoicing,  with  all  the  money  in  his 
pocket. 

Ranelagh  was  at  that  time  greatly  in  vogue  as  a  place 
of  public  entertainment.  It  was  situated  near  Chelsea;  the 
principal  room  was  a  Rotunda  of  great  dimensions,  with  an 


MASQUERADING  273 

• 

orchestra  in  the  centre,  and  tiers  of  boxes  all  round.  It  was 
a  place  to  which  Johnson  resorted  occasionally.  "I  am  a 
great  friend  to  public  amusements,"  said  he,  "  for  they  keep 
people  from  vice." l  Goldsmith  was  equally  a  friend  to  them, 
though  perhaps  not  altogether  on  such  moral  grounds.  He  5 
was  particularly  fond  of  masquerades,  which  were  then 
exceedingly  popular,  and  got  up  at  Ranelagh  with  great 
expense  and  magnificence.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  who  had 
likewise  a  taste  for  such  amusements,  was  sometimes  his 
companion ;  at  other  times  he  went  alone ;  his  peculiarities  10 
of  person  and  manner  would  soon  betray  him,  whatever 
might  be  his  disguise,  and  he  would  be  singled  out  by  wags, 
acquainted  with  his  foibles,  and  more  successful  than  him- 
self in  maintaining  their  incognito,  as  a  capital  subject  to  be 
played  upon.  Some,  pretending  not  to  know  him,  would  15 
decry  his  writings,  and  praise  those  of  his  contemporaries ; 
others  would  laud  his  versus  Jo  the  skies,  but  purposely 
misquote  and  burlesque  them;  others  would  annoy  him 
with  parodies  ;  while  one  young  lady,  whom  he  was  teas- 
ing, as  he  supposed,  with  great  success  and  infinite  humor,  20 
silenced  his  rather  boisterous  laughter  by  quoting  his  own 
line  about  "the  loud  laugh  that  speaks  the  vacant  mind." 
On  one  occasion  he  was  absolutely  driven  out  of  the  house 
by  the  persevering  jokes  of  a  wag,  whose  complete  disguise 
gave  him  no  means  of  retaliation.  25 

His  name  appearing  in  the  newspapers  among  the  distin- 
guished persons  present  at  one  of  these  amusements,  his  old 

1  "  Alas,  sir ! "  said  Johnson,  speaking,  when  in  another  mood,  of  grand 
houses,  fine  gardens,  and  splendid  places  of  public  amusement ;  "  alas,  sir !  these 
are  only  struggles  for  happiness.  When  I  first  entered  Ranelagh  it  gave  an 
expansion  and  gay  sensation  to  my  mind,  such  as  I  never  experienced  anywhere 
else.  But,  as  Xerxes  wept  when  he  viewed  his  immense  army,  and  considered 
that  not  one  of  that  great  multitude  would  be  alive  a  hundred  years  afterwards, 
so  it  went  to  my  heart  to  consider  that  there  was  not  one  in  all  that  brilliant 
circle  that  was  not  afraid  to  go  home  and  think." 


2/4  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

• 

enemy,  Kenrick,  immediately  addressed  to  him  a  copy  of 
anonymous  verses,  to  the  following  purport. 

TO   DR.  GOLDSMITH 

ON    SEEING   HIS    NAME   IN   THE    LIST   OF   MUMMERS  AT  THE   LATE 
5  MASQUERADE 

"  How  widely  different,  Goldsmith,  are  the  ways 
Of  Doctors  now,  and  those  of  ancient  days  ! 
Theirs  taught  the  truth  in  academic  shades, 
Ours  in  lewd  hops  and  midnight  masquerades. 

10  So  changed  the  times !  say,  philosophic  sage, 

Whose  genius  suits  so  well  this  tasteful  age, 
Is  the  Pantheon,  late  a  sink  obscene, 
Become  the  fountain  of  chaste  Hinpocrene? 
Or  do  thy  moral  numbers  quaintly  flow, 

15  Inspired  by  th'  Aganippe  of  Soho  ? 

Do  wisdom's  sons  gorge  cates  and  vermicelli, 
Like  beastly  Bickerstaffe  or  bothering  Kelly  ? 
Or  art  thou  tired  of  th'  undeserved  applause, 
Bestowed  on  bards  affecting  Virtue's  cause? 

20  Is  this  the  good  that  makes  the  humble  vain, 

The  good  philosophy  should  not  disdain  ? 
If  so,  let  pride  dissemble  all  it  can, 
A  modern  sage  is  still  much  less  than  man." 

Goldsmith  was  keenly  sensitive  to  attacks  of  the  kind, 
25  and  meeting  Kenrick  at  the  Chapter  Coffee-House,  called 
him  to  sharp  account  for  taking  such  liberty  with  his  name, 
and  calling  his  morals  in  question,  merely  on  account  of  his 
being  seen  at  a  place  of  general  resort  and  amusement. 
Kenrick  shuffled  and  sneaked,  protesting  that  he  meant 
30  nothing  derogatory  to  his  private  character.  Goldsmith  let 
him  know,  however,  that  he  was  aware  of  his  having  more 
than  once  indulged  in  attacks  of  this  dastard  kind,  and 
intimated  that  another  such  outrage  would  be  followed  by 
personal  chastisement. 

35       Kenrick,  having  played  the  craven  in  his  presence,  avenged 
himself  as  soon  as  he  was  gone  by  complaining  of  his  having 


NOVEL   MODE  OF  EXERCISE  275 

made  a  wanton  attack  upon  him,  and  by  making  coarse  com- 
ments upon  his  writings,  conversation,  and  person. 

The  scurrilous  satire  of  Kenrick,  however  unmerited,  may 
have  checked  Goldsmith's  taste  for  masquerades.    Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  calling  on  the  poet  one  morning,  found  him  walk-    5 
ing  about  his  room  in  somewhat  of  a  reverie,  kicking  a  bundle 
of  clothes  before  him  like  a  football.     It  proved  to  be  an 
expensive  masquerade  dress,  which  he  said  he  had  been  fool 
enough  to  purchase,  and  as  there  was  no  other  way  of  get- 
ting the  worth  of  his  money,  he  was  trying  to  take  it  out  in  10 
exercise. 

TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Do  you  pity  the  Goldsmith  of  this  chapter? 

2.  Was  Goldsmith  vain  ? 

3.  Does   living's  attitude  to   Boswell  when  he  says  that  Boswell 
•'  made  a  fool  of  himself  "  appear  biased  ? 

4.  Give  illustrations  from  your  own  experience  of  failures  to  re-tell 
jokes  so  that  the  point  would  be  plain. 

5.  Anecdotes  dealing  with  Goldsmith's  simplicity. 

6.  Goldsmith's  gay  life  as  depicted  in  Chapters  XXXV  and  XXXVI. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

Invitation  to  Christmas  —  The  Spring- Velvet  Coat  —  The  Haymaking  Wig  — 
The  Mischances  of  Loo  —  The  Fair  Culprit  —  A  Dance  with  the  Jessamy 
Bride. 

From  the  feverish  dissipations  of  town,  Goldsmith  is  sum- 
moned away  to  partake  of  the  genial  dissipations  of  the 
country.  In  the  month  of  December,  a  letter  from  Mrs. 
Bunbury  invites  him  down  to  Barton,  to  pass  the  Christmas 
5  holidays.  The  letter  is  written  in  the  usual  playful  vein 
which  marks  his  intercourse  with  this  charming  family.  He 
is  to  come  in  his  "  smart  spring-velvet  coat,"  to  bring  a  new 
wig  to  dance  with  the  haymakers  in,  and  above  all  to  follow 
the  advice  of  herself  and  her  sister,  (the  Jessamy  Bride,)  in 

10  playing  loo.  This  letter,  which  plays  so  archly,  yet  kindly, 
with  some  of  poor  Goldsmith's  peculiarities,  and  bespeaks 
such  real  lady-like  regard  for  him,  requires  a  word  or  two  of 
annotation.  The  spring-velvet  suit  alluded  to  appears  to 
have  been  a  gallant  adornment,  (somewhat  in  the  style  of 

15  the  famous  bloom-colored  coat,)  in  which  Goldsmith  had  fig- 
ured in  the  preceding  month  of  May  —  the  season  of  blos- 
soms, for,  on  the  2ist  of  that  month,  we  find  the  following 
entry  in  the  chronicle  of  Mr.  William  Filby,  tailor :  To  your 
blue  velvet  suit,  £21  los.  <^d.  Also,  about  the  same  time,  a 

20  suit  of  livery  and  a  crimson  collar  for  the  serving-man. 
Again  we  hold  the  Jessamy  Bride  responsible  for  this  gor- 
geous splendor  of  wardrobe. 

The  new  wig  no  doubt  is  a  bag-wig  and  solitaire,  still 
highly  the  mode,  and  in  which  Goldsmith  is  represented  as 

25  figuring  when  in  full  dress  equipped  with  his  sword. 

276 


THE   SPRING-VELVET   COAT  277 

As  to  the  dancing  with  the  haymakers,  we  presume  it 
alludes  to  some  gambol  of  the  poet,  in  the  course  of  his 
former  visit  to  Barton ;  when  he  ranged  the  fields  and  lawns 
a  chartered  libertine,  and  tumbled  into  the  fish-ponds. 

As  to  the  suggestions  about  loo,  they  are  in  sportive  allu-    5 
sion  to  the  Doctor's  mode  of  playing  that  game  in  their 
merry  evening  parties  ;  affecting  the  desperate  gambler  and 
easy  dupe  ;  running  counter  to  all  rule  ;  making  extravagant 
ventures;  reproaching  all  others  with  cowardice ;  dashing  at 
all  hazards  at  the  pool,  and  getting  himself  completely  loo'd,  10 
to  the  great  amusement  of  the  company.     The  drift  of  the 
fair  sisters'  advice  was  most  probably  to  tempt  him  on,  and 
then  leave  him  in  the  lurch. 

With  these  comments  we  subjoin  Goldsmith's  reply  to 
Mrs.  Bunbury,  a  fine  piece  of  off-hand,  humorous  writing,  15 
which  has  but  in  late  years  been  given  to  the  public,  and 
which  throws  a  familiar  light  on  the  social  circle  at  Barton. 

"MADAM,  —  I   read  your  letter  with  all  that  allowance 
which  critical  candor  could  require,  but  after  all  find  so 
much  to  object  to,  and  so  much  to  raise  my  indignation,  20 
that  I  cannot  help  giving  it  a  serious  answer.  —  I  am  not  so 
ignorant,  madam,  as   not  to  see  there  are  many  sarcasms 
contained  in  it,  and  solecisms  also.     (Solecism  is  a  word 
that  comes  from  the  town  of  Soleis  in  Attica,  among  the 
Greeks,  built  by   Solon,  and  applied   as  we  use  the  word  25 
Kidderminster  for  curtains  from  a  town  also  of  that  name;  — 
but  this  is  learning  you  have  no  taste  for !)  — I  say,  madam, 
that  there  are  many  sarcasms  in  it,  and  solecisms  also.    But 
not  to  seem  an  ill-natured  critic,  I  '11  take  leave  to  quote  your 
own  words,  and  give  you  my  remarks  upon  them  as  they  30 
occur.     You  begin  as  follows  :  — 

"  '  I  hope,  my  good  Doctor,  you  soon  will  be  here, 
And  your  spring-velvet  coat  very  smart  will  appear, 
To  open  our  ball  the  first  day  of  the  year.' 


278  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

"  Pray,  madam,  where  did  you  ever  find  the  epithet  'good,' 
applied  to  the  title  of  doctor?  Had  you  called  me  '  learned 
doctor,'  or  'grave  doctor,'  or  'noble  doctor,'  it  might  be 
allowable,  because  they  belong  to  the  profession.  But,  not 
5  to  cavil  at  trifles,  you  talk  of  my  '  spring- velvet  coat,'  and 
advise  me  to  wear  it  the  first  day  in  the  year,  that  is,  in  the 
middle  of  winter  !  —  a  spring-velvet  coat  in  the  middle  of 
winter  !  ! !  That  would  be  a  solecism  indeed  !  and  yet  to 
increase  the  inconsistency,  in  another  part  of  your  letter  you 
10  call  me  a  beau.  Now,  on  one  side  or  other,  you  must  be 
wrong.  If  I  am  a  beau,  I  can  never  think  of  wearing  a 
spring-velvet  in  winter;  and  if  I  am  not  a  beau,  why  then, 
that  explains  itself.  But  let  me  go  on  to  your  two  next 
strange  lines  :  — 

15  "  '  And  bring  with  you  a  wig,  that  is  modish  and  gay, 

To  dance  with  the  girls  that  are  makers  of  hay.' 

"The  absurdity  of  making  hay  at  Christmas  you  your- 
self seem  sensible  of:  you  say  your  sister  will  laugh;  and  so 
indeed  she  well  may  !  The  Latins  have  an  expression  for 

20  a  contemptuous  kind  of  laughter, '  naso  contemnere  adunco  '; 
that  is,  to  laugh  with  a  crooked  nose.  She  may  laugh  at 
you  in  the  manner  of  the  ancients  if  she  thinks  fit.  But 
now  I  come  to  the  most  extraordinary  of  all  extraordinary 
propositions,  —  which  is,  to  take  your  and  your  sister's 

25  advice  in  playing  at  loo.  The  presumption  of  the  offer 
raises  my  indignation  beyond  the  bounds  of  prose;  it 
inspires  me  at  once  with  verse  and  resentment.  I  take 
advice  !  and  from  whom  ?  You  shall  hear. 

"  First  let  me  suppose,  what  may  shortly  be  true, 
30  The  company  set,  and  the  word  to  be  Loo : 

All  smirking,  and  pleasant,  and  big  with  adventure, 
And  ogling  the  stake  which  is  fix'd  in  the  centre. 
Round  and  round  go  the  cards,  while  I  inwardly  damn 
At  never  once  finding  a  visit  from  Pam. 


LETTER  TO   MRS.  BUNBURY  279 

I  lay  down  my  stake,  apparently  cool, 

While  the  harpies  about  me  all  pocket  the  pool. 

I  fret  in  my  gizzard,  yet,  cautious  and  sly, 

I  wish  all  my  friends  may  be  bolder  than  I : 

Yet  still  they  sit  snug,  not  a  creature  will  aim  5 

By  losing  their  money  to  venture  at  fame. 

*T  is  in  vain  that  at  niggardly  caution  I  scold, 

*T  is  in  vain  that  I  natter  the  brave  and  the  bold : 

All  play  their  own  way,  and  they  think  me  an  ass, — 

4  What  does  Mrs.  Bunbury?'  .  .  'I,  Sir?     I  pass.'  10 

'  Pray  what  does  Miss  Horneck  ?  take  courage,  come  do,'  — 

'  Who,  I  ?  —  let  me  see,  sir,  why  I  must  pass  too.' 

Mr.  Bunbury  frets,  and  I  fret  like  the  devil, 

To  see  them  so  cowardly,  lucky,  and  civil. 

Yet  still  I  sit  snug,  and  continue  to  sigh  on,  15 

Till,  made  by  my  losses  as  bold  as  a  lion, 

I  venture  at  all,  while  my  avarice  regards 

The  whole  pool  as  my  own.  .  .  '  Come,  give  me  five  cards.' 

4  Well  done  ! '  cry  the  ladies ;  '  ah,  Doctor,  that 's  good  ! 

The  pool 's  very  rich,  .  .  ah  !  the  Doctor  is  loo'd  ! '  20 

Thus  foil'd  in  my  courage,  on  all  sides  perplext, 

I  ask  for  advice  from  the  lady  that 's  next : 

4  Pray,  ma'am,  be  so  good  as  to  give  your  advice; 

Don't  you  think  the  best  way  is  to  venture  for  "t  twice  ? ' 

4 1  advise,'  cries  the  lady,  '  to  try  it,  I  own.  .  .  25 

Ah  !  the  Doctor  is  loo'd  !     Come,  Doctor,  put  down.' 

Thus,  playing,  and  playing,  I  still  grow  more  eager, 

And  so  bold,  and  so  bold,  I  'm  at  last  a  bold  beggar. 

Now,  ladies,  I  ask,  if  law-matters  you  're  skill'd  in, 

Whether  crimes  such  as  yours  should  not  come  before  Fielding :     30 

For  giving  advice  that  is  not  worth  a  straw, 

May  well  be  call'd  picking  of  pockets  in  law ; 

And  picking  of  pockets,  with  which  I  now  charge  ye, 

Is,  by  quinto  Elizabeth,  Death  without  Clergy. 

What  justice,  when  both  to  the  Old  Bailey  brought !  35 

By  the  gods,  I  '11  enjoy  it,  tho'  'tis  but  in  thought ! 

Both  are  plac'd  at  the  bar,  with  all  proper  decorum, 

With  bunches  of  fennel,  and  nosegays  before  'em ; 

Both  cover  their  faces  with  mobs  and  all  that, 

But  the  judge  bids  them,  angrily,  take  off  their  hat.  4° 

When  uncover'd,  a  buzz  of  inquiry  runs  round, 


280  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

'  Pray  what  are  their  crimes  ?  '  .  .  'They  've  been  pilfering  found.' 
'  But,  pray,  who  have  they  pilfer'd  ? '  .  .  '  A  doctor,  I  hear.' 
'  What,  yon  solemn-faced,  odd-looking  man  that  stands  near  ? ' 
'  The  same.'  .  .  '  What  a  pity !  how  does  it  surprise  one, 
5  Two  handsomer  culprits  I  never  set  eyes  on  !  ' 

Then  their  friends  all  come  round  me  with  cringing  and  leering, 

To  melt  me  to  pity,  and  soften  my  swearing. 

First  Sir  Charles  advances  with  phrases  well-strung, 

'  Consider,  dear  Doctor,  the  girls  are  but  young.' 

10  'The  younger  the  worse,'  I  return  him  again, 

'  It  shows  that  their  habits  are  all  dyed  in  grain.' 
'  But  then  they  're  so  handsome,  one's  bosom  it  grieves.' 
'  What  signifies  handsome,  when  people  are  thieves  ? ' 
'  But  where  is  your  justice  ?  their  cases  are  hard.' 

15  '  What  signifies  ju stice  ?     I  want  the  reward. 

" '  There 's  the  parish  of  Edmonton  offers  forty  pounds  ; 
there 's  the  parish  of  St.  Leonard  Shoreditch  offers  forty 
pounds  ;    there 's  the  parish  of  Tyburn,  from  the   Hog-in- 
the-pound  to  St.  Giles's  watch-house,  offers  forty  pounds,  — 
20  I  shall  have  all  that  if  I  convict  them  ! '  — 

"  '  But  consider  their  case,  .  .  it  may  yet  be  your  own  ! 
And  see  how  they  kneel !     Is  your  heart  made  of  stone  ? ' 
This  moves :  .  .  so  at  last  I  agree  to  relent, 
For  ten  pounds  in  hand,  and  ten  pounds  to  be  spent. 

25  "  I  challenge  you  all  to  answer  this :  I  tell  you,  you  can- 
not. It  cuts  deep.  But  now  for  the  rest  of  the  letter :  and 
next  —  but  I  want  room  —  so  I  believe  I  shall  battle  the 
rest  out  at  Barton  some  day  next  week.  —  I  don't  value 
you  all !  O.  G." 

30  We  regret  that  we  have  no  record  of  this  Christmas  visit 
to  Barton  ;  that  the  poet  had  no  Boswell  to  follow  at  his 
heels,  and  take  note  of  all  his  sayings  and  doings.  We 
can  only  picture  him  in  our  minds,  casting  off  all  care ; 
enacting  the  lord  of  misrule;  presiding  at  the  Christmas 


DANCE  WITH   THE  JESSAMY   BRIDE         281 

revels  ;  providing  all  kinds  of  merriment ;  keeping  the  card- 
table  in  an  uproar,  and  finally  opening  the  ball  on  the  first 
day  of  the  year  in  his  spring-velvet  suit,  with  the  Jessamy 
Bride  for  a  partner. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1 .  How  do  Goldsmith's  letters  to  his  friends  compare  with  most  of 
the   letters   sent  from  one  friend    to   another  in   the  circle   of   your 
acquaintance  ? 

2.  Is    Irving   consistent   in   blaming  Boswell  for   being   a   prying, 
inquisitive  person,  and  then  wishing  there  had  been  a  Boswell  at  Barton 
to  record  Goldsmith's  sayings  and  doings  during  his  Christmas  visit  ? 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

Theatrical  Delays  —  Negotiations  with  Colman  —  Letter  to  Garrick  —  Croaking 
of  the  Manager  —  Naming  of  the  Play  —  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer  "  —  Foote's 
Primitive  Puppet-Show,  "  Piety  in  Pattens "  —  First  Performance  of  the 
Comedy  —  Agitation  of  the  Author — Success  —  Colman  Squibbed  out  of 
Town. 

The  gay  life  depicted  in  the  two  last  chapters,  while  it 
kept  Goldsmith  in  a  state  of  continual  excitement,  aggra- 
vated the  malady  which  was  impairing  his  constitution  ;  yet 
his  increasing  perplexities  in  money-matters  drove  him  to 
5  the  dissipation  of  society  as  a  relief  from  solitary  care. 
The  delays  of  the  theatre  added  to  those  perplexities.  He 
had  long  since  finished  his  new  comedy,  yet  the  year  1772 
passed  away  without  his  being  able  to  get  it  on  the  stage. 
No  one,  uninitiated  in  the  interior  of  a  theatre,  that  little 

10  world  of  traps  and  trickery,  can  have  any  idea  of  the 
obstacles  and  perplexities  multiplied  in  the  way  of  the  most 
eminent  and  successful  author  by  the  mismanagement 
of  managers,  the  jealousies  and  intrigues  of  rival  authors, 
and  the  fantastic  and  impertinent  caprices  of  actors.  A 

15  long  and  baffling  negotiation  was  carried  on  between  Gold- 
smith and  Colman,  the  manager  of  Covent  Garden;  who 
retained  the  play  in  his  hands  until  the  middle  of  January, 
(1773,)  without  coming  to  a  decision.  The  theatrical  sea- 
son was  rapidly  passing  away,  and  Goldsmith's  pecuniary 

20  difficulties  were  augmenting  and  pressing  on  him.  We  may 
judge  of  his  anxiety  by  the  following  letter :  — 

«  DEAR  SIR,  -    "  T°  Ge°rge  C°lman>  Esq' 

"  I  entreat  you  '11  relieve  me  from  that  state  of  suspense 
25  in  which   I  have  been  kept  for  a   long  time!     Whatever 

282 


NEGOTIATIONS  WITH  COLMAN  283 

objections  you  have  made  or  shall  make  to  my  play,  I  will 
endeavor  to  remove  and  not  argue  about  them.  To  bring 
in  any  new  judges  either  of  its  merits  or  faults  I  can  never 
submit  to.  Upon  a  former  occasion,  when  my  other  play 
was  before  Mr.  Garrick,  he  offered  to  bring  me  before  Mr.  5 
Whitehead's  tribunal,  but  I  refused  the  proposal  with  indig- 
nation :  I  hope  I  shall  not  experience  as  harsh  treatment 
from  you  as  from  him.  I  have,  as  you  know,  a  large  sum 
of  money  to  make  up  shortly ;  by  accepting  my  play,  I  can 
readily  satisfy  my  creditor  that  way;  at  any  rate,  I  must  10 
look  about  to  some  certainty  to  be  prepared.  For  God's 
sake  take  the  play,  and  let  us  make  the  best  of  it,  and 
let  me  have  the  same  measure,  at  least,  which  you  have 
given  as  bad  plays  as  mine. 

"I  am  your  friend  and  servant,  15 

"OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

Colman  returned  the  manuscript  with  the  blank  sides  of 
the  leaves  scored  with  disparaging  comments,  and  suggested 
alterations,  but  with  the  intimation  that  the  faith  of  the 
theatre  should  be  kept,  and  the  play  acted  notwithstanding.  20 
Goldsmith  submitted  the  criticisms  to  some  of  his  friends, 
who  pronounced  them  trivial,  unfair,  and  contemptible,  and 
intimated  that  Colman,  being  a  dramatic  writer  himself, 
might  be  actuated  by  jealousy.  The  play  was  then  sent, 
with  Colman's  comments  written  on  it,  to  Garrick ;  but  he  25 
had  scarce  sent  it  when  Johnson  interfered,  represented  the 
evil  that  might  result  from  an  apparent  rejection  of  it  by 
Covent  Garden,  and  undertook  to  go  forthwith  to  Colman, 
and  have  a  talk  with  him  on  the  subject.  Goldsmith,  there- 
fore, penned  the  following  note  to  Garrick:  — 

"DEAR    SIR,— 

« I  ask  many  pardons  for  the  trouble  I  gave  you  yester- 
day.    Upon  more  mature  deliberation,  and  the  advice  of 


284  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

a  sensible  friend,  I  began  to  think  it  indelicate  in  me  to 
throw  upon  you  the  odium  of  confirming  Mr.  Colman's  sen- 
tence. I  therefore  request  you  will  send  my  play  back  by 
my  servant ;  for  having  been  assured  of  having  it  acted  at 
5  the  other  house,  though  I  confess  yours  in  every  respect 
more  to  my  wish,  yet  it  would  be  folly  in  me  to  forego  an 
advantage  which  lies  in  my  power  of  appealing  from  Mr. 
Colman's  opinion  to  the  judgment  of  the  town.  I  entreat, 
if  not  too  late,  you  will  keep  this  affair  a  secret  for  some 
10  time.  "I  am,  dear  Sir,  your  very  humble  servant, 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

The  negotiation  of  Johnson  with  the  manager  of  Covent 
Garden  was  effective.  "  Colman,"  he  says,  "  was  prevailed 
on  at  last,  by  much  solicitation,  nay,  a  kind  of  force,"  to 

15  bring  forward  the  comedy.  Still  the  manager  was  ungen- 
erous, or  at  least  indiscreet  enough  to  express  his  opin- 
ion that  it  would  not  reach  a  second  representation.  The 
plot,  he  said,  was  bad,  and  the  interest  not  sustained;  "it 
dwindled,  and  dwindled,  and  at  last  went  out  like  the  snuff 

20  of  a  candle."  The  effect  of  his  croaking  was  soon  appar- 
ent within  the  walls  of  the  theatre.  Two  of  the  most  popu- 
lar actors,  Woodward  and  Gentleman  Smith,  to  whom  the 
parts  of  Tony  Lumpkin  and  Young  Marlow  were  assigned, 
refused  to  act  them;  one  of  them  alleging,  in  excuse,  the 

25  evil  predictions  of  the  manager.  Goldsmith  was  advised 
to  postpone  the  performance  of  his  play  until  he  could  get 
these  important  parts  well  supplied.  "  No,"  said  he,  "  I 
would  sooner  that  my  play  were  damned  by  bad  players 
than  merely  saved  by  good  acting." 

30  Quick  was  substituted  for  Woodward  in  Tony  Lumpkin, 
and  Lee  Lewis,  the  harlequin  of  the  theatre,  for  Gentleman 
Smith  in  Young  Marlow;  and  both  did  justice  to  their 
parts. 


CROAKING   OF   COLMAN  285 

Great  interest  was  taken  by  Goldsmith's  friends  in  the 
success  of  his  piece.  The  rehearsals  were  attended  by 
Johnson,  Cradock,  Murphy,  Reynolds  and  his  sister,  and 
the  whole  Horneck  connection,  including,  of  course,  the 
Jessamy  Bride,  whose  presence  may  have  contributed  to  5 
flutter  the  anxious  heart  of  the  author.  The  rehearsals 
went  off  with  great  applause ;  but  that  Colman  attributed 
to  the  partiality  of  friends.  He  continued  to  croak,  and 
refused  to  risk  any  expense  in  new  scenery  or  dresses  on 
a  play  which  he  was  sure  would  prove  a  failure.  10 

The  time  was  at  hand  for  the  first  representation,  and 
as  yet  the  comedy  was  without  a  title.  "  We  are  all  in 
labor  for  a  name  for  Goldy's  play,"  said  Johnson,  who,  as 
usual,  took  a  kind  of  fatherly  protecting  interest  in  poor 
Goldsmith's  affairs.  "The  Old  House  a  New  Inn"  was  15 
thought  of  for  a  time,  but  still  did  not  please.  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  proposed  "  The  Belle's  Stratagem,"  an  elegant 
title,  but  not  considered  applicable,  the  perplexities  of  the 
comedy  being  produced  by  the  mistake  of  the  hero,  not 
the  stratagem  of  the  heroine.  The  name  was  afterwards  20 
adopted  by  Mrs.  Cowley  for  one  of  her  comedies.  "The 
Mistakes  of  a  Night"  was  the  title  at  length  fixed  upon, 
to  which  Goldsmith  prefixed  the  words,  "  She  Stoops  to 
Conquer." 

The  evil  bodings  of  Colman  still  continued :  they  were  25 
even  communicated  in  the  box-office  to  the  servant  of  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  who  was  sent  to  engage  a  box.     Never 
did   the  play  of   a  popular  writer  struggle  into  existence 
through  more  difficulties. 

In  the  mean  time  Foote's  "  Primitive  Puppet-Show,"  en-  30 
titled  the  "Handsome   Housemaid,  or  Piety   in  Pattens," 
had  been  brought  out  at  the  Haymarket  on  the  i5th  of 
February.     All  the  world,   fashionable  and  unfashionable, 
had  crowded  to  the  theatre.     The  street  was  thronged  with 


286  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

equipages,  —  the  doors  were  stormed  by  the  mob.  The  bur- 
lesque was  completely  successful,  and  sentimental  comedy 
received  its  quietus.  Even  Garrick,  who  had  recently  be- 
friended it,  now  gave  it  a  kick,  as  he  saw  it  going  down- 
5  hill,  and  sent  Goldsmith  a  humorous  prologue  to  help  his 
comedy  of  the  opposite  school.  Garrick  and  Goldsmith, 
however,  were  now  on  very  cordial  terms,  to  which  the 
social  meetings  in  the  circle  of  the  Hornecks  and  Bunburys 
may  have  contributed. 

10  On  the  1 5th  of  March  the  new  comedy  was  to  be  per- 
formed. Those  who  had  stood  up  for  its  merits,  and  been 
irritated  and  disgusted  by  the  treatment  it  had  received 
from  the  manager,  determined  to  muster  their  forces,  and 
aid  in  giving  it  a  good  launch  upon  the  town.  The  par- 

15  ticulars  of  this  confederation,  and  of  its  triumphant  success, 
are  amusingly  told  by  Cumberland  in  his  memoirs. 

"We  were  not  over-sanguine  of  success,  but  perfectly 
determined  to  struggle  hard  for  our  author.  We  accord- 
ingly assembled  our  strength  at  the  Shakspeare  Tavern,  in  a 

20  considerable  body,  for  an  early  dinner,  where  Samuel  Johnson 
took  the  chair  at  the  head  of  a  long  table,  and  was  the  life 
and  soul  of  the  corps  ;  the  poet  took  post  silently  by  his  side, 
with  the  Burkes,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  Fitzherbert,  Caleb 
Whitefoord,  and  a  phalanx  of  North  British,  predetermined 

25  applauders,  under  the  banner  of  Major  Mills,  —  all  good 
men  and  true.  Our  illustrious  president  was  in  inimitable 
glee  ;  and  poor  Goldsmith  that  day  took  all  his  raillery  as 
patiently  and  complacently  as  my  friend  Boswell  would 
have  done  any  day  or  every  day  of  his  life.  In  the  mean 

30  time  we  did  not  forget  our  duty ;  and  though  we  had  a  better 
comedy  going,  in  which  Johnson  was  chief  actor,  we  betook 
ourselves  in  good  time  to  our  separate  and  allotted  posts, 
and  waited  the  awful  drawing  up  of  the  curtain.  As  our 
stations  were  preconcerted,  so  were  our  signals  for  plaudits 


A  LAUGHING   FUGLEMAN  287 

arranged  and  determined  upon  in  a  manner  that  gave  every 
one  his  cue  where  to  look  for  them,  and  how  to  follow 
them  up. 

"  We  had  among  us  a  very  worthy  and  efficient  member, 
long  since  lost  to  his  friends  and  the  world  at  large,  Adam    5 
Drummond,  of  amiable  memory,  who  was  gifted  by  nature 
with  the  most  sonorous,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most 
contagious  laugh  that  ever  echoed  from  the  human  lungs. 
The  neighing  of  the  horse  of  the  son  of  Hystaspes  was  a 
whisper  to  it ;  the  whole  thunder  of  the  theatre  could  not  10 
drown  it.     This  kind  and  ingenious  friend  fairly  forewarned 
us  that  he  knew  no  more  when  to  give  his  fire  than  the  can- 
non did  that  was  planted  on  a  battery.     He  desired,  there- 
fore, to  have  a  flapper  at  his  elbow,  and  I  had  the  honor  to 
be  deputed  to  that  office.     I  planted  him  in  an  upper  box,  15 
pretty  nearly  over  the  stage,  in  full  view  of  the  pit  and  gal- 
leries, and  perfectly  well  situated  to  give  the  echo  all  its 
play  through  the  hollows  and  recesses  of  the  theatre.     The 
success  of  our  manoeuvre  was  complete.     All  eyes  were  upon 
Johnson,  who  sat  in  a  front  row  of  a  side-box  ;  and  when  he  20 
laughed,  everybody  thought  themselves  warranted  to  roar. 
In  the  mean  time,  my  friend  followed  signals  with  a  rattle 
so  irresistibly  comic,  that,  when  he  had  repeated  it  several 
times,  the  attention  of  the  spectators  was  so  engrossed  by 
his  person  and  performances,  that  the  progress  of  the  play  25 
seemed  likely  to  become  a  secondary  object,  and  I  found  it 
prudent  to  insinuate  to  him  that  he  might  halt  his  music 
without  any  prejudice  to  the  author  ;  but  alas  !  it  was  now 
too  late  to  rein  him  in ;  he  had  laughed  upon  my  signal 
where  he  found  no  joke,  and  now,  unluckily,  he  fancied  that  30 
he  found  a  joke  in  almost  everything  that  was  said  ;  so  that , 
nothing  in  nature  could  be  more  mal-apropos  than  some  of 
his  bursts  every  now  and  then  were.     These  were  dangerous 
moments,  for  the  pit  began  to  take  umbrage  ;  but  we  carried 


288  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

our  point  through,  and  triumphed  not  only  over  Colman's 
judgment,  but  our  own." 

Much  of  this  statement  has  been  condemned  as  exagger- 
ated or  discolored.  Cumberland's  memoirs  have  generally 
5  been  characterized  as  partaking  of  romance,  and  in  the 
present  instance  he  had  particular  motives  for  tampering 
with  the  truth.  He  was  a  dramatic  writer  himself,  jeal- 
ous of  the  success  of  a  rival,  and  anxious  to  have  it  attrib- 
uted to  the  private  management  of  friends.  According  to 

10  various  accounts,  public  and  private,  such  management  was 
unnecessary,  for  the  piece  was  "received  throughout  with 
the  greatest  acclamations." 

Goldsmith,  in  the  present  instance,  had  not  dared,  as  on 
a  former  occasion,  to  be  present  at  the  first  performance. 

15  He  had  been  so  overcome  by  his  apprehensions  that,  at  the 
preparatory  dinner,  he  could  hardly  utter  a  word,  and  was 
so  choked  that  he  could  not  swallow  a  mouthful.  When  his 
friends  trooped  to  the  theatre,  he  stole  away  to  St.  James's 
Park  :  there  he  was  found  by  a  friend,  between  seven  and 

20  eight  o'clock,  wandering  up  and  down  the  Mall  like  a  troubled 
spirit.  With  difficulty  he  was  persuaded  to  go  to  the  thea- 
tre, where  his  presence  might  be  important  should  any  alter- 
ation be  necessary.  He  arrived  at  the  opening  of  the  fifth 
act,  and  made  his  way  behind  the  scenes.  Just  as  he  entered 

25  there  was  a  slight  hiss  at  the  improbability  of  Tony  Lump- 
kin's  trick  on  his  mother,  in  persuading  her  she  was  forty 
miles  off,  on  Crackskull  Common,  though  she  had  been 
trundled  about  on  her  own  grounds.  "  What 's  that?  what 's 
that !  "  cried  Goldsmith  to  the  manager,  in  great  agitation. 

30  "  Pshaw  !  Doctor,"  replied  Colman,  sarcastically,  "  don't  be 
.  frightened  at  a  squib,  when  we  've  been  sitting  these  two 
hours  on  a  barrel  of  gunpowder  !  "     Though  of  a  most  for- 
giving nature,  Goldsmith  did  not  easily  forget  this  ungra- 
cious and  ill-timed  sally. 


SQUIBS  AND  CRACKERS  289 

If  Colman  was  indeed  actuated  by  the  paltry  motives 
ascribed  to  him  in  his  treatment  of  this  play,  he  was  most 
amply  punished  by  its  success,  and  by  the  taunts,  epigrams, 
and  censures  levelled  at  him  through  the  press,  in  which  his 
false  prophecies  were  jeered  at,  his  critical  judgment  called  5 
in  question,  and  he  was  openly  taxed  with  literary  jealousy. 
So  galling  and  unremitting  was  the  fire,  that  he  at  length 
wrote  to  Goldsmith,  entreating  him  "to  take  him  off  the 
rack  of  the  newspapers";  in  the  mean  time,  to  escape  the 
laugh  that  was  raised  about  him  in  the  theatrical  world  of  10 
London,  he  took  refuge  in  Bath  during  the  triumphant  career 
of  the  comedy. 

The  following  is  one  of  the  many  squibs  which  assailed 
the  ears  of  the  manager  :  — 

TO  GEORGE  COLMAN,  ESQ.  15 

ON   THE   SUCCESS   OF    DR.  GOLDSMITH'S   NEW  COMEDY 

"  Come,  Coley,  doff  those  mourning  weeds, 

Nor  thus  with  jokes  be  flamm'd ; 
Tho'  Goldsmith's  present  play  succeeds, 
His  next  may  still  be  damn'd. 

As  this  has  'scaped  without  a  fall, 

To  sink  his  next  prepare ; 
New  actors  hire  from  Wapping  Wall 

And  dresses  from  Rag  Fair. 

For  scenes  let  tatter'd  blankets  fly, 

The  prologue  Kelly  write; 
Then  swear  again  the  piece  must  die 

Before  the  author's  night. 

Should  these  tricks  fail,  the  lucky  elf, 

To  bring  to  lasting  shame, 
E'en  write  the  best  you  can  yourself, 

And  print  it  in  his  name." 


290  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH    . 

The  solitary  hiss,  which  had  startled  Goldsmith,  was 
ascribed  by  some  of  the  newspaper  scribblers  to  Cumber- 
land himself,  who  was  "manifestly  miserable"  at  the  de- 
light of  the  audience,  or  to  Ossian  Macpherson,  who  was 
5  hostile  to  the  whole  Johnson  clique,  or  to  Goldsmith's  dra- 
matic rival,  Kelly.  The  following  is  one  of  the  epigrams 
which  appeared :  — 

"  At  Dr.  Goldsmith's  merry  play, 

All  the  spectators  laugh,  they  say; 
10  The  assertion,  sir,  I  must  deny, 

For  Cumberland  and  Kelly  cry. 

Ride,  si  softs." 

Another,  addressed  to  Goldsmith,  alludes  to  Kelly's  early 
apprenticeship  to  stay-making :  — 

15  "If  Kelly  finds  fault  with  the  shape  of  your  muse, 

And  thinks  that  too  loosely  it  plays, 
He  surely,  dear  Doctor,  will  never  refuse 
To  make  it  a  new  Pair  of  Stays  !  " 

Cradock  had  returned  to  the  country  before  the  produc- 
20  tion  of  the  play;  the  following  letter,  written  just  after  the 
performance,  gives  an  additional  picture  of  the  thorns  which 
beset  an  author  in  the  path  of  theatrical  literature  :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR, — 

"The  play  has  met  with  a  success  much  beyond  your 

25  expectations  or  mine.  I  thank  you  sincerely  for  your  epi- 
logue, which,  however,  could  not  be  used,  but  with  your 
permission  shall  be  printed.  The  story  in  short  is  this. 
Murphy  sent  me  rather  the  outline  of  an  epilogue  than  an 
epilogue,  which  was  to  be  sung  by  Mrs.  Catley,  and  which 

30  she  approved  ;  Mrs.  Bulkley,  hearing  this,  insisted  on  throw- 
ing up  her  part "  (Miss  Hardcastle)  "  unless,  according  to 
the  custom  of  the  theatre,  she  were  permitted  to  speak  the 
epilogue.  In  this  embarrassment  I  thought  of  making  a 


CRITICAL  OPINIONS 


291 


quarrelling  epilogue  between  Catley  and  her,  debating  who 
should  speak  the  epilogue ;  but  then  Mrs.  Catley  refused 
after  I  had  taken  the  trouble  of  drawing  it  out.  I  was  then 
at  a  loss  indeed;  an  epilogue  was  to  be  made,  and  for  none 
but  Mrs.  Bulkley.  I  made  one,  and  Colman  thought  it  too  5 
bad  to  be  spoken ;  I  was  obliged,  therefore,  to  try  a  fourth 
time,  and  I  made  a  very  mawkish  thing,  as  you  '11  shortly  see. 
Such  is  the  history  of  my  stage  adventures,  and  which  I 
have  at  last  done  with.  I  cannot  help  saying  that  I  am  very 
sick  of  the  stage;  and  though  I  believe  I  shall  get  three  10 
tolerable  benefits,  yet  I  shall,  on  the  whole,  be  a  loser,  even 
in  a  pecuniary  light;  my  ease  and  comfort  I  certainly  lost 
while  it  was  in  agitation. 

"  I    am,   my  dear  Cradock,  your  obliged  and  obedient 
servant,  "OLIVER  GOLDSMITH.      15 

"  P.  S.  —  Present    my    most    humble    respects    to    Mrs. 
Cradock." 

Johnson,  who  had  taken  such  a  conspicuous  part  in  pro- 
moting the  interest  of  poor  "  Goldy,"  was  triumphant  at  the 
success  of  the  piece.  "  I  know  of  no  comedy  for  many  20 
years,"  said  he,  "that  has  so  much  exhilarated  an  audience; 
that  has  answered  so  much  the  great  end  of  comedy  — 
making  an  audience  merry." 

Goldsmith  was  happy,  also,  in  gleaning  applause  from 
less  authoritative  sources.     Northcote,  the  painter,  then  a  25 
youthful   pupil   of    Sir   Joshua   Reynolds,   and   Ralph,  Sir 
Joshua's  confidential  man,  had  taken  their  stations  in  the 
gallery  to  lead  the   applause  in  that  quarter.     Goldsmith 
asked  Northcote's  opinion  of  the  play.    The  youth  modestly 
declared  he  could  not  presume  to  judge  in  such  matters.  30 
"Did  it  make  you  laugh?"     "Oh,  exceedingly!"     "That 
is  all  I  require,"  replied  Goldsmith ;  and  rewarded  him  for 
his  criticism  by  box-tickets  for  his  first  benefit-night. 


292  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

The  comedy  was  immediately  put  to  press,  and  dedi- 
cated to  Johnson  in  the  following  grateful  and  affectionate 
terms  :  — 

"  In  inscribing  this  slight  performance  to  you,  I  do  not 
5  mean  so  much  to  compliment  you  as  myself.  It  may  do  me 
some  honor  to  inform  the  public  that  I  have  lived  many 
years  in  intimacy  with  you.  It  may  serve  the  interests  of 
mankind  also  to  inform  them,  that  the  greatest  wit  may  be 
found  in  a  character,  without  impairing  the  most  unaffected 

10  piety." 

The  copyright  was  transferred  to  Mr.  Newbery,  accord- 
ing to  agreement,  whose  profits  on  the  sale  of  the  work  far 
exceeded  the  debts  for  which  the  author  in  his  perplexities 
had  preengaged  it.  The  sum  which  accrued  to  Goldsmith 

15  from  liis  benefit-nights  afforded  but  a  slight  palliation  of  his 
pecuniary  difficulties.  His  friends,  while  they  exulted  in 
his  success,  little  knew  of  his  continually  increasing  embar- 
rassments, and  of  the  anxiety  of  mind  which  kept  tasking 
his  pen  while  it  impaired  the  ease  and  freedom  of  spirit 

20  necessary  to  felicitous  composition. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Relate  why  Goldsmith  should  be  "sick  of  the  stage." 

2.  Are  persons  ever  hired  in  these  days  to  applaud  a  play  on  its  first 
presentation  ? 

3.  The  first  performance  of  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

A  Newspaper  Attack  — The  Evans  Affray  — Johnson's  Comment. 

The  triumphant  success  of  "She  Stoops  to  Conquer" 
brought  forth,  of  course,  those  carpings  and  cavillings  of 
underling  scribblers,  which  are  the  thorns  and  briers  in  the 
path  of  successful  authors.  Goldsmith,  though  easily  nettled 
by  attacks  of  the  kind,  was  at  present  too  well  satisfied  with  5 
the  reception  of  his  comedy  to  heed  them ;  but  the  following 
anonymous  letter,  which  appeared  in  a  public  paper,  was 
not  to  be  taken  with  equal  equanimity:  — 

(For  the  London  Packet!) 

"TO  DR.  GOLDSMITH.  10 

"  Vous  vous  noyez  par  vanitt. 

"  SIR,  —  The  happy  knack  which  you  have  learned  of 
puffing  your  own  compositions  provokes  me  to  come  forth. 
You  have  not  been  the  editor  of  newspapers  and  magazines 
not  to  discover  the  trick  of  literary  humbug;  but  the  gauze  15 
is  so  thin  that  the  very  foolish  part  of  the  world  see  through 
it,  and  discover  the  doctor's  monkey-face  and  cloven  foot. 
Your  poetic  vanity  is  as  unpardonable  as  your  personal. 
Would  man  believe  it,  and  will  woman  bear  it,  to  be  told 
that  for  hours  the  great  Goldsmith  will  stand  surveying  his  20 
grotesque  orang-outang's  figure  in  a  pier-glass?     Was  but 
the  lovely  H — k  as  much  enamored,  you  would  not  sigh, 
my  gentle  swain,  in  vain.     But  your  vanity  is  preposterous. 
How  will  this  same  bard  of  Bedlam  ring  the  changes  in  the 
praise  of  Goldy  !     But  what  has  he  to  be  either  proud  or  25 
vain  of?     'The  Traveller'  is  a  flimsy  poem,  built  upon  false 

293 


294  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

principles  —  principles  diametrically  opposite  to  liberty. 
What  is  '  The  Good-natured  Man  '  but  a  poor,  water-gruel 
dramatic  dose  ?  What  is  '  The  Deserted  Village '  but  a 
pretty  poem  of  easy  numbers,  without  fancy,  dignity,  genius, 
5  or  fire  ?  And,  pray,  what  may  be  the  last  speaking  panto- 
mime, so  praised  by  the  Doctor  himself,  but  an  incoherent 
piece  of  stuff,  the  figure  of  a  woman  with  a  fish's  tail,  with- 
out plot,  incident,  or  intrigue  ?  We  are  made  to  laugh  at 
stale,  dull  jokes,  wherein  we  mistake  pleasantry  for  wit,  and 

10  grimace  for  humor;  wherein  every  scene  is  unnatural  and 
inconsistent  with  the  rules,  the  laws  of  nature  and  of  the 
drama ;  viz  :  two  gentlemen  come  to  a  man  of  fortune's 
house,  eat,  drink,  &c.,  and  take  it  for  an  inn.  The  one  is 
intended  as  a  lover  for  the  daughter  ;  he  talks  with  her  for 

15  some  hours;  and,  when  he  sees  her  again  in  a  different 
dress,  he  treats  her  as  a  bar-girl,  and  swears  she  squinted. 
He  abuses  the  master  of  the  house,  and  threatens  to  kick 
him  out  of  his  own  doors.  The  squire,  whom  we  are  told 
is  to  be  a  fool,  proves  to  be  the  most  sensible  being  of  the 

20  piece;  and  he  makes  out  a  whole  act  by  bidding  his  mother 
lie  close  behind  a  bush,  persuading  her  that  his  father,  her 
own  husband,  is  a  highwayman,  and  that  he  has  come  to 
cut  their  throats ;  and,  to  give  his  cousin  an  opportunity 
to  go  off,  he  drives  his  mother  over  hedges,  ditches,  and 

25  through  ponds.  There  is  not,  sweet,  sucking  Johnson,  a 
natural  stroke  in  the  whole  play  but  the  young  fellow's  giv- 
ing the  stolen  jewels  to  the  mother,  supposing  her  to  be  the 
landlady.  That  Mr.  Colman  did  no  justice  to  this  piece, 
I  honestly  allow ;  that  he  told  all  his  friends  it  would  be 

30  damned,  I  positively  aver ;  and,  from  such  ungenerous 
insinuations,  without  a  dramatic  merit,  it  rose  to  public 
notice,  and  it  is  now  the  ton  to  go  and  see  it,  though  I 
never  saw  a  person  that  either  liked  it  or  approved  it,  any 
more  than  the  absurd  plot  of  Home's  tragedy  of  '  Alonzo.' 


NEWSPAPER  ATTACK  295 

Mr.  Goldsmith,  correct  your  arrogance,  reduce  your  vanity, 
and  endeavor  to  believe,  as  a  man,  you  are  of  the  plainest 
sort,  —  and  as  an  author,  but  a  mortal  piece  of  mediocrity. 

"  Brise  le  miroir  infid&le 

Qui  vous  cache  la  verite.  5 

"TOM  TICKLE." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  devise  a  letter  more  calculated  to 
wound  the  peculiar  sensibilities  of  Goldsmith.  The  attacks 
upon  him  as  an  author,  though  annoying  enough,  he  could 
have  tolerated  ;  but  then  the  allusion  to  his  "  grotesque  "  10 
person,  to  his  studious  attempts  to  adorn  it ;  and,  above  all, 
to  his  being  an  unsuccessful  admirer  of  the  lovely  H — k 
(the  Jessamy  Bride),  struck  rudely  upon  the  most  sensitive 
part  of  his  highly  sensitive  nature.  The  paragraph,  it  is 
said,  was  first  pointed  out  to  him  by  an  officious  friend,  an  15 
Irishman,  who  told  him  he  was  bound  in  honor  to  resent 
it ;  but  he  needed  no  such  prompting.  He  was  in  a  high 
state  of  excitement  and  indignation,  and,  accompanied  by 
his  friend,  who  is  said  to  have  been  a  Captain  Higgins,  of 
the  marines,  he  repaired  to  Paternoster  Row,  to  the  shop  20 
of  Evans,  the  publisher,  whom  he  supposed  to  be  the  edi- 
tor of  the  paper.  Evans  was  summoned  by  his  shopman 
from  an  adjoining  room.  Goldsmith  announced  his  name. 
"  I  have  called,"  added  he,  "  in  consequence  of  a  scurrilous 
attack  made  upon  me,  and  an  unwarrantable  liberty  taken  25 
with  the  name  of  a  young  lady.  As  for  myself,  I  care  little ; 
but  her  name  must  not  be  sported  with." 

Evans  professed  utter  ignorance  of  the  matter,  and  said 
he  would  speak  to  the  editor.  He  stooped  to  examine  a  file 
of  the  paper,  in  search  of  the  offensive  article ;  whereupon  30 
Goldsmith's  friend  gave  him  a  signal,  that  now  was  a  favor- 
able moment  for  the  exercise  of  his  cane.  The  hint  was 
taken  as  quick  as  given,  and  the  cane  was  vigorously  applied 


296  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

to  the  back  of  the  stooping  publisher.  The  latter  rallied 
in  an  instant,  and,  being  a  stout,  high-blooded  Welshman, 
returned  the  blows  with  interest.  A  lamp  hanging  overhead 
was  broken,  and  sent  down  a  shower  of  oil  upon  the  com- 

5  batants;  but  the  battle  raged  with  unceasing  fury.  The 
shopman  ran  off  for  a  constable ;  but  Dr.  Kenrick,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  adjacent  room,  sallied  forth,  interfered 
between  the  combatants,  and  put  an  end  to  the  affray.  He 
conducted  Goldsmith  to  a  coach,  in  exceedingly  battered 

10  and  tattered  plight,  and  accompanied  him  home,  soothing 
him  with  much  mock  commiseration,  though  he  was  gen- 
erally suspected,  and  on  good  grounds,  to  be  the  author  of 
the  libel. 

Evans   immediately  instituted  a  suit  against  Goldsmith 

15  for  an  assault,  but  was  ultimately  prevailed  upon  to  com- 
promise the  matter,  the  poet  contributing  fifty  pounds  to 
the  Welsh  charity. 

Newspapers  made  themselves,  as  may  well  be  supposed, 
exceedingly  merry  with  the  combat.  Some  censured  him 

20  severely  for  invading  the  sanctity  of  a  man's  own  house ; 
others  accused  him  of  having,  in  his  former  capacity  of 
editor  of  a  magazine,  been  guilty  of  the  very  offences  that 
he  now  resented  in  others.  This  drew  from  him  the  fol- 
lowing vindication:  — 

25  "  To  the  Public. 

"  Lest  it  should  be  supposed  that  I  have  been  willing  to 
correct  in  others  an  abuse  of  which  I  have  been  guilty  myself, 
I  beg  leave  to  declare,  that,  in  all  my  life,  I  never  wrote  or 
dictated  a  single  paragraph,  letter,  or  essay  in  a  newspaper, 

30  except  a  few  moral  essays  under  the  character  of  a  Chinese, 
about  ten  years  ago,  in  the  '  Ledger,'  and  a  letter,  to  which  I 
signed  my  name,  in  the  '  St.  James's  Chronicle.'  If  the  lib- 
erty of  the  press,  therefore,  has  been  abused,  I  have  had  no 
hand  in  it. 


THE  VINDICATION  297 

"  I  have  always  considered  the  press  as  the  protector  of 
our  freedom,  as  a  watchful  guardian,  capable  of  uniting  the 
weak  against  the  encroachments  of  power.  What  concerns 
the  public  most  properly  admits  of  a  public  discussion.  But, 
of  late,  the  press  has  turned  from  defending  public  interest  5 
to  making  inroads  upon  private  life ;  from  combating  the 
strong  to  overwhelming  the  feeble.  No  condition  is  now 
too  obscure  for  its  abuse  and  the  protector  has  become  the 
tyrant  of  the  people.  In  this  manner  the  freedom  of  the 
press  is  beginning  to  sow  the  seeds  of  its  own  dissolution;  10 
the  great  must  oppose  it  from  principle,  and  the  weak  from 
fear;  till  at  last  every  rank  of  mankind  shall  be  found  to 
give  up  its  benefits,  content  with  security  from  insults. 

"  How  to  put  a  stop  to  this  licentiousness,  by  which  all 
are  indiscriminately  abused,  and  by  which  vice  consequently  15 
escapes  in  the  general  censure,  I  am  unable  to  tell :  all  I 
could  wish  is,  that,  as  the  law  gives  us  no  protection  against 
the  injury,  so  it  should  give  calumniators  no  shelter  after  hav- 
ing provoked  correction.    The  insults  which  we  receive  before 
the  public,  by  being  more  open,  are  the  more  distressing;  20 
by  treating  them  with  silent  contempt  we  do  not  pay  a  suf- 
ficient deference  to  the  opinion  of  the  world.     By  recurring 
to  legal  redress  we  too  often  expose  the  weakness  of  the  law, 
which  only  serves  to  increase  our  mortification  by  failing  to 
relieve  us.     In  short,  every  man  should  singly  consider  him-  25 
self  as  the  guardian  of  the  liberty  of  the  press,  and,  as  far 
as  his  influence  can  extend,  should  endeavor  to  prevent  its 
licentiousness  becoming  at  last  the  grave  of  its  freedom. 

"OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

Boswell,  who  had  just  arrived  in  town,  met  with  this  article  3° 
in  a  newspaper  which  he  found  at  Dr.  Johnson's.    The  Doc- 
tor was  from  home  at  the  time,  and  Bozzy  and  Mrs.  Williams, 
in  a  critical  conference  over  the  letter,  determined  from  the 


298  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

style  that  it  must  have  been  written  by  the  lexicographer 
himself.  The  latter  on  his  return  soon  undeceived  them. 
"  Sir,"  said  he  to  Boswell,  "  Goldsmith  would  no  more  have 
asked  me  to  have  wrote  such  a  thing  as  that  for  him  than  he 
5  would  have  asked  me  to  feed  him  with  a  spoon,  or  do  any- 
thing else  that  denoted  his  imbecility.  Sir,  had  he  shown  it 
to  any  one  friend,  he  would  not  have  been  allowed  to  publish 
it.  He  has,  indeed,  done  it  very  well ;  but  it  is  a  foolish  thing 
well  done.  I  suppose  he  has  been  so  much  elated  with  the 
10  success  of  his  new  comedy,  that  he  has  thought  everything 
that  concerned  him  must  be  of  importance  to  the  public." 


TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Using  details  given  elsewhere  regarding  the  looks  and  dress  of 
Goldsmith  at  this  period,  write  an  imaginary  picture  of  Goldsmith  at 
the  moment  when  he  began  to  cane  Evans. 

2.  What    was    Boswell's    nickname  ?      Goldsmith's  ?      Johnson's  ? 
Burke's  ?     Do  the  characters  of  history  seem  more  real  to  you  when 
you  know  their  nicknames? 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Boswell  in  Holy- Week— Dinner  at  Oglethorpe's  —  Dinner  at  Paoli's— The 
Policy  of  Truth  — Goldsmith  affects  Independence  of  Royalty— Paoli's 
Compliment — Johnson's  Eulogium  on  the  Fiddle  —  Question  about  Suicide 
—  Boswell's  Subserviency. 

The  return  of  Boswell  to  town  to  his  task  of  noting  down 
the  conversations  of  Johnson,  enables  us  to  glean  from  his 
journal  some  scanty  notices  of  Goldsmith.  It  was  now  Holy- 
Week,  a  time  during  which  Johnson  was  particularly  solemn 
in  his  manner  and  strict  in  his  devotions.  Boswell,  who  5 
was  the  imitator  of  the  great  moralist  in  everything,  assumed, 
of  course,  an  extra  devoutness  on  the  present  occasion. 
"  He  had  an  odd  mock  solemnity  of  tone  and  manner,"  said 
Miss  Burney  (afterwards  Madame  D'Arblay),  "which  he  had 
acquired  from  constantly  thinking,  and  imitating  Dr.  John-  10 
son."  It  would  seem  that  he  undertook  to  deal  out  some 
second-hand  homilies,  d  la  Johnson,  for  the  edification  of 
Goldsmith  during  Holy-Week.  The  poet,  whatever  might 
be  his  religious  feeling,  had  no  disposition  to  be  schooled 
by  so  shallow  an  apostle.  "Sir," -said  he  in  reply,  "as  I  15 
take  my  shoes  from  the  shoemaker,  and  my  coat  from  the 
tailor,  so  I  take  my  religion  from  the  priest." 

Boswell  treasured  up  the  reply  in  his  memory  or  his 
memorandum-book.  A  few  days  afterwards,  the  gth  of 
April,  he  kept  Good  Friday  with  Dr.  Johnson,  in  orthodox  20 
style ;  breakfasted  with  him  on  tea  and  cross-buns;  went  to 
church  with  him  morning  and  evening;  fasted  in  the  inter- 
val, and  read  with  him  in  the  Greek  Testament:  then,  in 
the  piety  of  his  heart,  complained  of  the  sore  rebuff  he  had 
met  with  in  the  course  of  his  religious  exhortations  to  the  25 

299 


300  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

poet,  and  lamented  that  the  latter  should  indulge  in  "  this 

loose  way  of  talking."     "  Sir,"  replied  Johnson,  "  Goldsmith 

knows  nothing — he  has  made  up  his  mind  about  nothing." 

This  reply  seems  to  have  gratified  the  lurking  jealousy  of 

5  Boswell,  and  he  has  recorded  it  in  his  journal.     Johnson, 

however,  with  respect  to  Goldsmith,  and  indeed  with  respect 

to  everybody  else,  blew  hot  as  well  as  cold,  according  to  the 

humor  he  was  in.     Boswell,  who  was  astonished  and  piqued 

at  the  continually  increasing  celebrity  of  the  poet,  observed 

10  some  time  after  to  Johnson,  in  a  tone  of  surprise,  that  Gold- 
smith had  acquired  more  fame  than  all  the  officers  of  the 
last  war  who  were  not  generals.  "  Why,  sir,"  answered 
Johnson,  his  old  feeling  of  good-will  working  uppermost, 
"  you  will  find  ten  thousand  fit  to  do  what  they  did,  before 

15  you  find  one  to  do  what  Goldsmith  has  done.  You  must 
consider  that  a  thing  is  valued  according  to  its  rarity.  A 
pebble  that  paves  the  street  is  in  itself  more  useful  than  the 
diamond  upon  a  lady's  finger." 

On  the  1 3th  of  April  we  find  Goldsmith  and  Johnson  at 

20  the  table  of  old  General  Oglethorpe,  discussing  the  question 
of  the  degeneracy  of  the  human  race.  Goldsmith  asserts  the 
fact,  and  attributes  it  to  the  influence  of  luxury.  Johnson 
denies  the  fact,  and  observes,  that,  even  admitting  it,  luxury 
could  not  be  the  cause.*  It  reached  but  a  small  proportion 

25  of  the  human  race.  Soldiers,  on  sixpence  a  day,  could  not 
indulge  in  luxuries  ;  the  poor  and  laboring  classes,  forming 
the  great  mass  of  mankind,  were  out  of  its  sphere.  Where- 
ever  it  could  reach  them,  it  strengthened  them  and  rendered 
them  prolific.  The  conversation  was  not  of  particular  force 

30  or  point  as  reported  by  Boswell ;  the  dinner-party  was  a  very 
small  one,  in  which  there  was  no  provocation  to  intellectual 
display. 

After  dinner  they  took  tea  with  the  ladies,  where  we  find 
poor  Goldsmith  happy  and  at  home,  singing  Tony  Lumpkin's 


DINNER  AT  PAOLI'S  301 

song  of  the  "  Three  Jolly  Pigeons,"  and  another,  called  the 
"Humors  of  Ballamaguery,"  to  a  very  pretty  Irish  tune. 
It  was  to  have  been  introduced  in  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer," 
but  was  left  out,  as  the  actress  who  played  the  heroine  could 
not  sing.  , 

It  was  in  these  genial  moments  that  the  sunshine  of  Gold- 
smith's nature  would  break  out,  and  he  would  say  and  do  a 
thousand  whimsical  and  agreeable  things  that  made  him  the 
life  of  the  strictly  social  circle.  Johnson,  with  whom  con- 
versation was  everything,  used  to  judge  Goldsmith  too  much  10 
by  his  own  colloquial  standard,  and  undervalue  him  for  being 
less  provided  than  himself  with  acquired  facts,  the  ammuni- 
tion of  the  tongue  and  often  the  mere  lumber  of  the  memory ; 
others,  however,  valued  him  for  the  native  felicity  of  his 
thoughts,  however  carelessly  expressed,  and  for  certain  good-  1 5 
fellow  qualities,  less  calculated  to  dazzle  than  to  endear. 
"  It  is  amazing,"  said  Johnson  one  day,  after  he  himself 
had  been  talking  like  an  oracle  ;  "  it  is  amazing  how  little 
Goldsmith  knows ;  he  seldom  comes  where  he  is  not  more 
ignorant  than  any  one  else."  "Yet,"  replied  Sir  Joshua  20 
Reynolds,  with  affectionate  promptness,  "there  is  no  man 
whose  company  is  more  liked" 

Two  or  three  days  after  the  dinner  at  General  Oglethorpe's, 
Goldsmith  met  Johnson  again  at  the  table  of  General  Paoli, 
the  hero  of  Corsica.  Martinelli,  of  Florence,  author  of  an  25 
Italian  History  of  England,  was  among  the  guests;  as  was 
Boswell,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  minutes  of  the  con- 
versation which  took  place.  The  question  was  debated 
whether  Martinelli  should  continue  his  history  down  to  that 
day.  "  To  be  sure  he  should,"  said  Goldsmith.  "  No,  sir,"  30 
cried  Johnson,  "  it  would  give  great  offence.  He  would  have 
to  tell  of  almost  all  the  living  great  what  they  did  not  wish 
told."  Goldsmith.  —  "  It  may,  perhaps,  be  necessary  for  a 
native  to  be  more  cautious;  but  a  foreigner,  who  comes 


302  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

among  us  without  prejudice,  may  be  considered  as  holding 
the  place  of  a  judge,  and  may  speak  his  mind  freely." 
Johnson.  —  "  Sir,  a  foreigner,  when  he  sends  a  work  from  the 
press,  ought  to  be  on  his  guard  against  catching  the  error 

5  and  mistaken  enthusiasm  of  the  people  among  whom  he 
happens  to  be."  Goldsmith.  —  "  Sir,  he  wants  only  to  sell 
his  history,  and  to  tell  truth ;  one  an  honest,  the  other  a 
laudable  motive."  Johnson.  —  "  Sir,  they  are  both  laudable 
motives.  It  is  laudable  in  a  man  to  wish  to  live  by  his 

10  labors ;  but  he  should  write  so  as  he  may  live  by  them,  not 
so  as  he  may  be  knocked  on  the  head.  I  would  advise  him 
to  be  at  Calais  before  he  publishes  his  history  of  the  present 
age.  A  foreigner  who  attaches  himself  to  a  political  party 
in  this  country  is  in  the  worst  state  that  can  be  imagined; 

15  he  is  looked  upon  as  a  mere  intermeddler.  A  native  may 
do  it  from  interest."  Boswell.  — "  Or  principle."  Gold- 
smith. — "  There  are  people  who  tell  a  hundred  political 
lies  every  day,  and  are  not  hurt  by  it.  Surely,  then,  one 
may  tell  truth  with  perfect  safety."  Johnson.  —  "Why,  sir, 

20  in  the  first  place,  he  who  tells  a  hundred  lies  has  disarmed 
the  force  of  his  lies.  But,  besides,  a  man  had  rather  have 
a  hundred  lies  told  of  him  than  one  truth  which  he  does  not 
wish  to  be  told."  Goldsmith.  —  "  For  my  part,  I  'd  tell  the 
truth,  and  shame  the  devil."  Johnson.  —  "  Yes,  sir,  but  the 

25  devil  will  be  angry.  I  wish  to  shame  the  devil  as  much 
as  you  do,  but  I  should  choose  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  his 
claws."  Goldsmith.  — "  His  claws  can  do  you  no  hurt  where 
you  have  the  shield  of  truth." 

This  last  reply  was  one  of  Goldsmith's  lucky  hits,  and 

30  closed  the  argument  in  his  favor. 

"We  talked,"  writes  Boswell,  "of  the  King's  coming  to 
see  Goldsmith's  new  play."  "  I  wish  he  would,"  said  Gold- 
smith, adding,  however,  with  an  affected  indifference,  "not 
that  it  would  do  me  the  least  good."  "  Well,  then,"  cried 


303 

Johnson,  laughing,  "let  us  say  it  would  do  him  good. 
No,  sir,  this  affectation  will  not  pass,  —  it  is  mighty  idle. 
In  such  a  state  as  ours,  who  would  not  wish  to  please  the 
chief  magistrate?" 

"  I  do  wish  to  please  him,"  rejoined  Goldsmith.     "  I  re-    5 
member  a  line  in  Dryden  :  — 

"'And  every  poet  is  the  monarch's  friend;' 
it  ought  to  be  reversed."     "  Nay,"  said  Johnson,  "  there  are 
finer  lines  in  Dryden  on  this  subject: 

" « For  colleges  on  bounteous  kings  depend,  10 

And  never  rebel  was  to  arts  a  friend.'" 

General  Paoli  observed  that  "successful  rebels  might  be." 
"  Happy  rebellions,"  interjected  Martinelli.  "  We  have  no 
such  phrase,"  cried  Goldsmith.  "  But  have  you  not  the 
thing?"  asked  Paoli.  "Yes,"  replied  Goldsmith,  "all  our  15 
happy  revolutions.  They  have  hurt  our  constitution,  and 
will  hurt  it,  till  we  mend  it  by  another  HAPPY  REVOLUTION." 
This  was  a  sturdy  sally  of  Jacobitism,  that  quite  surprised 
Boswell,  but  must  have  been  relished  by  Johnson. 

General  Paoli  mentioned  a  passage  in  the  play,  which  had  20 
been  construed  into  a  compliment  to  a  lady  of  distinction, 
whose  marriage  with  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  had  excited 
the  strong  disapprobation  of  the  King  as  a  mesalliance. 
Boswell,  to  draw  Goldsmith  out,  pretended  to  think  the 
compliment  unintentional  The  poet  smiled  and  hesitated.  25 
The  General  came  to  his  relief.  "  Monsieur  Goldsmith," 
said  he,  "est  comme  la  mer,  qui  jette  des  perles  et  beaucoup 
d'autres  belles  choses,  sans  s'en  appercevoir."  (Mr.  Gold- 
smith is  like  the  sea,  which  casts  forth  pearls  and  many 
other  beautiful  things  without  perceiving  it.)  30 

"Tres-bien  dit,  et  tres-e'legamment,"  (very  well  said,  and 
very  elegantly,)  exclaimed  Goldsmith,  delighted  with  so 
beautiful  a  compliment  from  such  a  quarter. 


304  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

Johnson  spoke  disparagingly  of  the  learning  of  Mr.  Harris, 
of  Salisbury,  and  doubted  his  being  a  good  Grecian.  "  He 
is  what  is  much  better,"  cried  Goldsmith,  with  prompt  good- 
nature,—  "he  is  a  worthy,  humane  man."  "Nay,  sir," 
5  rejoined  the  logical  Johnson,  "  that  is  not  to  the  purpose  of 
our  argument ;  that  will  prove  that  he  can  play  upon  the 
fiddle  as  well  as  Giardini,  as  that  he  is  an  eminent  Grecian." 
Goldsmith  found  he  had  got  into  a  scrape,  and  seized  upon 
Giardini  to  help  him  out  of  it.  "  The  greatest  musical  per- 

10  formers,"  said  he,  dexterously  turning  the  conversation, 
"have  but  small  emoluments;  Giardini,  I  am  told,  does  not 
get  above  seven  hundred  a  year."  "  That  is  indeed  but 
little  for  a  man  to  get,"  observed  Johnson,  "who  does  best 
that  which  so  many  endeavor  to  do.  There  is  nothing,  I 

15  think,  in  wh'ich  the  power  of  art  is  shown  so  much  as  in 
playing  on  the  fiddle.  In  all  other  things  we  can  do  some- 
thing at  first.  Any  man  will  forge  a  bar  of  iron,  if  you  give 
him  a  hammer;  not  so  well  as  a  smith,  but  tolerably.  A 
man  will  saw  a  piece  of  wood,  and  make  a  box,  though  a 

20  clumsy  one;  but  give  him  a  fiddle  and  fiddlestick,  and  he 
can  do  nothing." 

This,  upon  the  whole,  though  reported  by  the  one-sided 
Boswell,  is  a  tolerable  specimen  of  the  conversations  of 
Goldsmith  and  Johnson;  the  former  heedless,  often  illogical, 

25  always  on  the  kind-hearted  side  of  the  question,  and  prone 
to  redeem  himself  by  lucky  hits  ;  the  latter  closely  argu- 
mentative, studiously  sententious,  often  profound,  and  some- 
times laboriously  prosaic. 

They  had  an  argument  a  few  days  later  at  Mr.  Thrale's 

30  table,  on  the  subject  of  suicide.  "  Do  you  think,  sir,"  said 
Boswell,  "  that  all  who  commit  suicide  are  mad  ?  "  "  Sir," 
replied  Johnson,  "  they  are  not  often  universally  disordered 
in  their  intellects,  but  one  passion  presses  so  upon  them 
that  they  yield  to  it,  and  commit  suicide,  as  a  passionate 


QUESTION  ABOUT   SUICIDE  305 

man  will  stab  another.  I  have  often  thought,"  added  he, 
"  that  after  a  man  has  taken  the  resolution  to  kill  himself,  it 
is  not  courage  in  him  to  do  anything,  however  desperate, 
because  he  has  nothing  to  fear."  "I  don't  see  that," 
observed  Goldsmith.  "Nay,  but,  my  dear  sir,"  rejoined  5 
Johnson,  "why  should  you  not  see  what  every  one  else 
does  ? "  "  It  is,"  replied  Goldsmith,  "  for  fear  of  something 
that  he  has  resolved  to  kill  himself  ;  and  will  not  that  timid 
disposition  restrain  him?"  "  It  does  not  signify,"  pursued 
Johnson,  "  that  the  fear  of  something  made  him  resolve ;  it  10 
is  upon  the  state  of  his  mind,  after  the  resolution  is  taken, 
that  I  argue.  Suppose  a  man,  either  from  fear,  or  pride,  or 
conscience,  or  whatever  motive,  has  resolved  to  kill  himself; 
when  once  the  resolution  is  taken  he  has  nothing  to  fear. 
He  may  then  go  and  take  the  King  of  Prussia  by  the  nose  15 
at  the  head  of  his  army.  He  cannot  fear  the  rack  who 
is  determined  to  kill  himself."  Boswell  reports  no  more 
of  the  discussion,  though  Goldsmith  might  have  continued 
it  with  advantage :  for  the  very  timid  disposition,  which 
through  fear  of  something  was  impelling  the  man  to  com-  20 
mit  suicide,  might  restrain  him  from  an  act  involving  the 
punishment  of  the  rack,  more  terrible  to  him  than  death 
itself. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  in  all  these  reports  by  Boswell,  we 
have  scarcely  anything  but  the  remarks  of  Johnson;  it  is  25 
only  by  accident  that  he  now  and  then  gives  us  the  obser- 
vations of  others,  when  they  are  necessary  to  explain  or  set 
off  those  of  his  hero.  "  When  in  that  presence"  says  Miss 
Burney,  "  he  was  unobservant,  if  not  contemptuous  of  every 
one  else.  In  truth,  when  he  met  with  Dr.  Johnson,  he  30 
commonly  forebore  even  answering  anything  that  was  said, 
or  attending  to  anything  that  went  forward,  lest  he  should 
miss  the  smallest  sound  from  that  voice,  to  which  he  paid 
such  exclusive,  though  merited  homage.  But  the  moment 


306  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

that  voice  burst  forth,  the  attention  which  it  excited  on  Mr. 

Boswell  amounted  almost  to  pain.     His  eyes  goggled  with 

eagerness ;  he  leant  his  ear  almost  on  the  shoulder  of  the 

Doctor;  and  his  mouth  dropped  open  to  catch  every  syllable 

5  that  might  be  uttered ;  nay,  he  seemed  not  only  to  dread 

losing  a  word,  but  to  be  anxious  not  to  miss  a  breathing,  as 

if  hoping  from  it  latently,  or  mystically,  some  information." 

On  one  occasion  the  Doctor  detected  Boswell,  or  Bozzy, 

as  he  called  him,  eavesdropping  behind  his  chair,  as  he  was 

10  conversing  with  Miss  Burney  at  Mr.  Thrale's  table.     "  What 

are  you  doing  there,  sir?"  cried  he,  turning  round  angrily, 

and  clapping  his  hand  upon  his  knee.    "  Go  to  the  table,  sir." 

Boswell  obeyed  with  an  air  of  affright  and  submission, 

which  raised  a  smile  on  every  face.     Scarce  had  he  taken 

15  his  seat,  however,  at  a  distance,  than,  impatient  to  get  again 
at  the  side  of  Johnson,  he  rose  and  was  running  off  in  quest 
of  something  to  show  him,  when  the  Doctor  roared  after 
him  authoritatively,  "  What  are  you  thinking  of,  sir  ?  Why 
do  you  get  up  before  the  cloth  is  removed  ?  Come  back 

20  to  your  place,  sir;"  —  and  the  obsequious  spaniel  did  as 
he  was  commanded.  —  "Running  about  in  the  middle  of 
meals  !  "  muttered  the  Doctor,  pursing  his  mouth  at  the 
same  time  to  restrain  his  rising  risibility. 

Boswell  got  another  rebuff  from   Johnson,  which   would 

25  have  demolished  any  other  man.  He  had  been  teasing  him 
with  many  direct  questions,  such  as,  "What  did  you  do,  sir? 
—  What  did  you  say,  sir?"  until  the  great  philologist 
became  perfectly  enraged.  "  I  will  not  be  put  to  the 
question!"  roared  he.  "  Don't  you  consider,  sir,  that  these 

30  are  not  the  manners  of  a  gentleman  ?  I  will  not  be  baited 
with  what  and  why  ; —  What  is  this  ?  What  is  that  ?  Why 
is  a  cow's  tail  long?  Why  is  a  fox's  tail  bushy?"  "Why, 
sir,"  replied  pilgarlick,  "you  are  so  good  that  I  venture  to 
trouble  you."  "  Sir,"  replied  Johnson,  "  my  being  so  good 


SERVILITY  OF   BOSWELL 


307 


is  no  reason  why  you  should  be  so  ill"  "You  have  but 
two  topics,  sir,"  exclaimed  he  on  another  occasion,  "your- 
self and  me,  and  I  am  sick  of  both." 

Boswell's  inveterate  disposition  to  toad,  was  a  sore  cause 
of  mortification  to  his  father,  the  old  laird  of  Auchinleck  (or  5 
Affleck).  He  had  been  annoyed  by  his  extravagant  devo- 
tion to  Paoli,  but  then  he  was  something  of  a  military  hero; 
but  this  tagging  at  the  heels  of  Dr.  Johnson,  whom  he  con- 
sidered a  kind  of  pedagogue,  set  his  Scotch  blood  in  a 
ferment.  "  There  's  nae  hope  for  Jamie,  mon,"  said  he  to  a  10 
friend ;  —  "  Jamie  is  gaen  clean  gyte.  What  do  you  think, 
mon  ?  He  's  done  wi'  Paoli ;  he  's  off  wi'  the  land-louping 
scoundrel  of  a  Corsican;  and  whose  tail  do  you  think  he 
has  pinn'd  himself  to  now,  mon  ?  A  dominie,  mon ;  an  auld 
dominie ;  he  keeped  a  schule,  and  cau'd  it  an  acaadamy."  15 

We  shall  show  in  the  next  chapter  that  Jamie's  devotion 
to  the  dominie  did  not  go  unrewarded. 


TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Would  you  rather  be  in  the  company  of  a  person  like  Johnson  or 
of  one  like  Goldsmith  ?     Why  ? 

2.  Do  all  parts  of  this  chapter  help  to  develop  the  general  topic  of 
the  book,  t.t.,  the  life  and  character  of  Goldsmith  ? 

3.  What  are  cross  buns  ? 

4.  How  many  references  are  there  to  "  The  Three  Jolly  Pigeons  "? 


CHAPTER   XL 

Changes  in  the   Literary  Club  —  Johnson's   Objection   to   Garrick — Election 
of  Boswell. 

The  Literary  Club  (as  we  have  termed  the  club  in  Gerard 
Street,  though  it  took  that  name  some  time  later)  had  now 
been  in  existence  several  years.  Johnson  was  exceedingly 
chary  at  first  of  its  exclusiveness,  and  opposed  to  its  being 
5  augmented  in  number.  Not  long  after  its  institution,  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  was  speaking  of  it  to  Garrick.  "  I  like  it 
much,"  said  little  David,  briskly ;  "  I  think  I  shall  be  of 
you."  "  When  Sir  Joshua  mentioned  this  to  Dr.  Johnson," 
says  Boswell,  "  he  was  much  displeased  with  the  actor's  con- 

10  ceit.  'He'll  be  of  us?'  growled  he.  'How  does  he  know 
we  vi\\\  permit  him  ?  The  first  duke  in  England  has  no  right 
to  hold  such  language.'  " 

When  Sir  John  Hawkins  spoke  favorably  of  Garrick's  pre- 
tensions, "  Sir,"  replied  Johnson,  "he  will  disturb  us  by  his 

15  buffoonery."  In  the  same  spirit  he  declared  to  Mr.  Thrale, 
that,  if  Garrick  should  apply  for  admission,  he  would  black- 
ball him.  "  Who,  sir  ?  "  exclaimed  Thrale,  with  surprise  ; 
"  Mr.  Garrick  —  your  friend,  your  companion  —  black-ball 
him  !  "  "  Why,  sir,"  replied  Johnson,  "  I  love  my  little 

20  David  dearly  —  better  than  all  or  any  of  his  flatterers  do ; 
but  surely  one  ought  to  sit  in  a  society  like  ours, 

"'Unelbowed  by  a  gamester,  pimp,  or  player.'" 

The  exclusion  from  the  club  was  a  sore  mortification  to 

Garrick,  though  he  bore  it  without  complaining.     He  could 

25  not  help  continually  to  ask  questions  about  it  —  what  was 

308 


BOSWELL   PROPOSED  AT  THE  CLUB         309 

going  on  there  —  whether  he  was  ever  the  subject  of  con- 
versation. By  degrees  the  rigor  of  the  club  relaxed  :  some 
of  the  members  grew  negligent.  Beauclerc  lost  his  right 
of  membership  by  neglecting  to  attend.  On  his  marriage, 
however,  with  Lady  Diana  Spencer,  daughter  of  the  Duke  5 
of  Marlborough,  and  recently  divorced  from  Viscount  Boling- 
broke,  he  had  claimed  and  regained  his  seat  in  the  club. 
The  number  of  members  had  likewise  been  augmented. 
The  proposition  to  increase  it  originated  with  Goldsmith. 
"  It  would  give,"  he  thought,  "  an  agreeable  variety  to  their  10 
meetings ;  for  there  can  be  nothing  new  amongst  us,"  said 
he  ;  "  we  have  travelled  over  each  other's  minds."  Johnson 
was  piqued  at  the  suggestion.  "  Sir,"  said  he,  "  you  have 
not  travelled  over  my  mind,  I  promise  you."  Sir  Joshua, 
less  confident  in  the  exhaustless  fecundity  of  his  mind,  15 
felt  and  acknowledged  the  force  of  Goldsmith's  suggestion. 
Several  new  members,  therefore,  had  been  added ;  the  first, 
to  his  great  joy,  was  David  Garrick.  Goldsmith,  who  was 
now  on  cordial  terms  with  him,  had  zealously  promoted  his 
election,  and  Johnson  had  given  it  his  warm  approbation.  20 
Another  new  member  was  Beauclerc's  friend,  Lord  Charle- 
mont ;  and  a  still  more  important  one  was  Mr.  (afterwards 
Sir  William)  Jones,  the  famous  Orientalist,  at  that  time  a 
young  lawyer  of  the  Temple  and  a  distinguished  scholar. 

To  the  great  astonishment  of  the  club,  Johnson  now  pro-  25 
posed  his  devoted  follower,  Boswell,  as  a  member.     He  did 
it  in  a  note  addressed  to  Goldsmith,  who  presided  on  the 
evening  of  the  2jd  of  April.     The  nomination  was  seconded 
by  Beauclerc.     According  to  the  rules  of  the  club,  the  ballot 
would  take  place  at  the  next  meeting  (on  the  3oth) ;  there  3° 
was  an  intervening  week,  therefore,  in  which  to  discuss  the 
pretensions  of  the  candidate.     We  may  easily  imagine  the 
discussions  that  took  place.      Boswell  had  made   himself 
absurd  in  such  a  variety  of  ways  that  the  very  idea  of  his 


310  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

admission  was  exceedingly  irksome  to  some  of  the  members. 
"The  honor  of  being  elected  into  the  Turk's  Head  Club," 
said  the  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  "  is  not  inferior  to  that  of 
being  representative  of  Westminster  and  Surrey ; "  what  had 
5  Boswell  done  to  merit  such  an  honor?  What  chance  had 
he  of  gaining  it?  The  answer  was  simple:  he  had  been  the 
persevering  worshipper,  if  not  sycophant  of  Johnson.  The 
great  lexicographer  had  a  heart  to  be  won  by  apparent  affec- 
tion; he  stood  forth  authoritatively  in  support  of  his  vassal. 

10  If  asked  to  state  the  merits  of  the  candidate,  he  summed 
them  up  in  an  indefinite  but  comprehensive  word  of  his  own 

.  coining:  —  he  was  dubable.  He  moreover  gave  significant 
hints  that  if  Boswell  were  kept  out  he  should  oppose  the 
admission  of  any  other  candidate.  No  further  opposition 

15  was  made ;  in  fact  none  of  the  members  had  been  so  fastidi- 
ous and  exclusive  in  regard  to  the  club  as  Johnson  himself; 
and  if  he  were  pleased,  they  were  easily  satisfied:  besides, 
they  knew  that,  with  all  his  faults,  Boswell  was  a  cheerful 
companion,  and  possessed  lively  social  qualities. 

20  On  Friday,  when  the  ballot  was  to  take  place,  Beauclerc 
gave  a  dinner,  at  his  house  in  the  Adelphi,  where  Boswell 
met  several  of  the  members  who  were  favorable  to  his  elec- 
tion. After  dinner  the  latter  adjourned  to  the  club,  leaving 
Boswell  in  company  with  Lady  Di  Beauclerc  until  the  fate 

25  of  his  election  should  be  known.  He  sat,  he  says,  in  a  state 
of  anxiety  which  even  the  charming  conversation  of  Lady 
Di  could  not  entirely  dissipate.  It  was  not  long  before 
tidings  were  brought  of  his  election,  and  he  was  conducted 
to  the  place  of  meeting,  where,  beside  the  company  he  had 

30  met  at  dinner,  Burke,  Dr.  Nugent,  Garrick,  Goldsmith,  and 
Mr.  William  Jones  were  waiting  to  receive  him.  The  club, 
notwithstanding  all  its  learned  dignity  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  could  at  times  "unbend  and  play  the  fool"  as  well 
as  less  important  bodies.  Some  of  its  jocose  conversations 


CHARGE  OF  JOHNSON  311 

have  at  times  leaked  out,  and  a  society  in  which  Goldsmith 
could  venture  to  sing  his  song  of  "  an  old  woman  tossed  in  a 
blanket,"  could  not  be  so  very  staid  in  its  gravity.  We  may 
suppose,  therefore,  the  jokes  that  had  been  passing  among 
the  members  while  awaiting  the  arrival  of  Boswell.  Beau-  5 
clerc  himself  could  not  have  repressed  his  disposition  for  a 
sarcastic  pleasantry.  At  least  we  have  a  right  to  presume 
all  this  from  the  conduct  of  Doctor  Johnson  himself. 

With  all  his  gravity  he  possessed  a  deep  fund  of  quiet 
humor,  and  felt  a  kind  of  whimsical  responsibility  to  protect  10 
the  club  from  the  absurd  propensities  of  the  very  question- 
able associate  he  had  thus  inflicted  on  them.  Rising,  there- 
fore, as  Boswell  entered,  he  advanced  with  a  very  doctorial 
air,  placed  himself  behind  a  chair,  on  which  he  leaned  as  on 
a  desk  or  pulpit,  and  then  delivered,  ex  cathedra,  a  mock  15 
solemn  charge,  pointing  out  the  conduct  expected  from  him 
as  a  good  member  of  the  club ;  what  he  was  to  do,  and 
especially  what  he  was  to  avoid ;  including  in  the  latter,  no 
doubt,  all  those  petty,  prying,  questioning,  gossiping,  bab- 
bling habits  which  had  so  often  grieved  the  spirit  of  the  20 
lexicographer.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Boswell  has  never 
thought  proper  to  note  down  the  particulars  of  this  charge, 
which,  from  the  well-known  characters  and  pqsitions  of  the 
parties,  might  have  furnished  a  parallel  to  the  noted  charge 
of  Launcelot  Gobbo  to  his  dog.  25 


TOPICS  AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Boswell 's  election  to  the  club. 

2.  Why  is  Johnson  called  the  great  lexicographer? 

3.  How  much  is  there  about  Goldsmith  in  this  chapter  ?    Is  Trving's 
book  faulty  because  the  author  does  not  tell  more  concerning  Goldsmith 
in  the  chapter  ? 


CHAPTER   XLI 

Dinner  at  Billy's — Conversations  on  Natural  History  —  Intermeddling  of  Bos- 
well —  Dispute  about  Toleration  —  Johnson's  Rebuff  to  Goldsmith;  His 
Apology — Man- Worship — Doctors  Major  and  Minor  —  A  Farewell  Visit. 

A  few  days  after  the  serio-comic  scene  of  the  elevation  of 
Boswell  into  the  Literary  Club,  we  find  that  indefatigable 
biographer  giving  particulars  of  a  dinner  at  the  Dillys', 
booksellers,  in  the  Poultry,  at  which  he  met  Goldsmith  and 
5  Johnson,  with  several  other  literary  characters.  His  anec- 
dotes of  the  conversation,  of  course,  go  to  glorify  Dr.  John- 
son ;  for,  as  he  observes  in  his  biography,  "  his  conversation 
alone,  or  what  led  to  it,  or  was  interwoven  with  it,  is  the 
business  of  this  work."  Still  on  the  present,  as  on  other 

10  occasions,  he  gives  unintentional  and  perhaps  unavoidable 
gleams  of  Goldsmith's  good  sense,  which  show  that  the 
latter  only  wanted  a  less  prejudiced  and  more  impartial 
reporter,  to  put  down  the  charge  of  colloquial  incapacity  so 
unjustly  fixed  upon  him.  The  conversation  turned  upon 

15  the  natural  history  of  birds,  a  beautiful  subject,  on  which 
the  poet,  from  his  recent  studies,  his  habits  of  observation, 
and  his  natural  tastes,  must  have  talked  with  instruction 
and  feeling;  yet,  though  we  have  much  of  what  Johnson 
said,  we  have  only  a  casual  remark  or  two  of  Goldsmith. 

20  One  was  on  the  migration  of  swallows,  which  he  pronounced 
partial;  "the  stronger  ones,"  said  he,  "migrate,  the  others 
do  not." 

Johnson  denied  to  the  brute  creation  the  faculty  of  reason. 
"  Birds,"  said  he,  "  build  by  instinct ;  they  never  improve ; 

25  they  build  their  first  nest  as  well  as  any  one  they  ever 
build."  "Yet  we  see,"  observed  Goldsmith,  "if  you  take 

312 


CONVERSATIONS  ON   NATURAL  HISTORY    313 

away  a  bird's-nest  with  the  eggs  in  it,  she  will  make  a 
slighter  nest  and  lay  again."  "Sir,"  replied  Johnson,  "that 
is  because  at  first  she  has  full  time,  and  makes  her  nest 
deliberately.  In  the  case  you  mention,  she  is  pressed  to 
lay,  and  must,  therefore,  make  her  nest  quickly,  and  con-  5 
sequently  it  will  be  slight."  "The  nidification  of  birds," 
rejoined  Goldsmith,  "  is  what  is  least  known  in  natural  his- 
tory, though  one  of  the  most  curious  things  in  it."  While 
conversation  was  going  on  in  this  placid,  agreeable,  and 
instructive  manner,  the  eternal  meddler  and  busybody,  Bos-  10 
well,  must  intrude  to  put  in  a  brawl.  The  Dillys  were  dis- 
senters ;  two  of  their  guests  were  dissenting  clergymen ; 
another,  Mr.  Toplady,  was  a  clergyman  of  the  established 
church.  Johnson  himself  was  a  zealous,  uncompromising 
churchman.  None  but  a  marplot  like  Boswell  would  have  15 
thought,  on  such  an  occasion  and  in  such  company,  to 
broach  the  subject  of  religious  toleration  ;  but,  as  has  been 
well  observed,  "  it  was  his  perverse  inclination  to  intro- 
duce subjects  that  he  hoped  would  produce  difference  and 
debate."  In  the  present  instance  he  gained  his  point.  An  20 
animated  dispute  immediately  arose,  in  which,  according  to 
Boswell's  report,  Johnson  monopolized  the  greater  part  of 
the  conversation  ;  not  always  treating  the  dissenting  clergy- 
men with  the  greatest  courtesy,  and  even  once  wounding 
the  feelings  of  the  mild  and  amiable  Bennet  Langton  by  25 
his  harshness. 

Goldsmith  mingled  a  little  in  the  dispute  and  with  some 
advantage,  but  was  cut  short  by  flat  contradictions  when 
most  in  the  right.  He  sat  for  a  time  silent  but  impatient 
under  such  overbearing  dogmatism,  though  Boswell,  with  his  30 
usual  misinterpretation,  attributes  his  "restless  agitation" 
to  a  wish  to  get  in  and  shine.  "  Finding  himself  excluded," 
continues  Boswell,  "he  had  taken  his  hat  to  go  away,  but 
remained  for  a  time  with  it  in  his  hand,  like  a  gamester  who 


314  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

at  the  end  of  a  long  night  lingers  for  a  little  while  to  see  if 
he  can  have  a  favorable  opportunity  to  finish  with  success." 
Once  he  was  beginning  to  speak,  when  he  was  overpowered 
by  the  loud  voice  of  Johnson,  who  was  at  the  opposite  end 
5  of  the  table,  and  did  not  perceive  his  attempt;  whereupon 
he  threw  down,  as  it  were,  his  hat  and  his  argument,  and, 
darting  an  angry  glance  at  Johnson,  exclaimed  in  a  bitter 
tone,  "Take  it." 

Just  then  one  of  the  disputants  was  beginning  to  speak, 

10  when,  Johnson  uttering  some  sound,  as  if  about  to  interrupt 
him,  Goldsmith,  according  to  Boswell,  seized  the  opportunity 
to  vent  his  own  envy  and  spleen  under  pretext  of  supporting 
another  person.  "  Sir,"  said  he  to  Johnson,  "  the  gentleman 
has  heard  you  patiently  for  an  hour ;  pray  allow  us  now  to 

15  hear  him."  It  was  a  reproof  in  the  lexicographer's  own 
style,  and  he  may  have  felt  that  he  merited  it ;  but  he  was 
not  accustomed  to  be  reproved.  "  Sir,"  said  he,  sternly,  "  I 
was  not  interrupting  the  gentleman;  I  was  only  giving  him 
a  signal  of  my  attention.  Sir,  you  are  impertinent"  Gold- 

20  smith  made  no  reply,  but  after  some  time  went  away,  having 
another  engagement. 

That  evening,  as  Boswell  was  on  the  way  with  Johnson 
and  Langton  to  the  club,  he  seized  the  occasion  to  make 
some  disparaging  remarks  on  Goldsmith,  which  he  thought 

25  would  just  then  be  acceptable  to  the  great  lexicographer. 
"  It  was  a  pity,"  he  said,  "  that  Goldsmith  would  on  every 
occasion  endeavor  to  shine,  by  which  he  so  often  exposed 
himself."  Langton  contrasted  him  with  Addison,  who,  con- 
tent with  the  fame  of  his  writings,  acknowledged  himself 

30  unfit  for  conversation  ;  and  on  being  taxed  by  a  lady  with 
silence  in  company,  replied,  "  Madam,  I  have  but  ninepence 
in  ready  money,  but  I  can  draw  for  a  thousand  pounds." 
To  this  Boswell  rejoined  that  Goldsmith  had  a  great  deal 
of  gold  in  his  cabinet,  but  was  always  taking  out  his  purse. 


INTERMEDDLING  OF  BOSWELL  315 

"  Yes,  sir,"  chuckled  Johnson,  "  and  that  so  often  an  empty 
purse." 

By  the  time  Johnson  arrived  at  the  club,  however,  his 
angry  feelings  had  subsided,  and  his  native  generosity  and 
sense  of  justice  had  got  the  uppermost.  He  found  Gold-  5 
smith  in  company  with  Burke,  Garrick,  and  other  members, 
but  sitting  silent  and  apart,  "  brooding,"  as  Boswell  says, 
"over  the  reprimand  he  had  received."  Johnson's  good 
heart  yearned  towards  him ;  and  knowing  his  placable 
nature,  "  I  '11  make  Goldsmith  forgive  me,"  whispered  he ;  10 
then,  with  a  loud  voice,  "  Dr.  Goldsmith,"  said  he,  "  some- 
thing passed  to-day  where  you  and  I  dined,  —  I  ask  your 
pardon"  The  ire  of  the  poet  was  extinguished  in  an  instant, 
and  his  grateful  affection  for  the  magnanimous  though  some- 
times overbearing  moralist  rushed  to  his  heart.  "It  must  15 
be  much  from  you,  sir,"  said  he,  "  that  I  take  ill ! "  "  And 
so,"  adds  Boswell,  "  the  difference  was  over,  and  they  were 
on  as  easy  terms  as  ever,  and  Goldsmith  rattled  away  as 
usual."  We  do  not  think  these  stories  tell  to  the  poet's 
disadvantage,  even  though  related  by  Boswell.  20 

Goldsmith,  with  all  his  modesty,  could  not  be  ignorant  of 
his  proper  merit,  and  must  have  felt  annoyed  at  times  at  being 
undervalued  and  elbowed  aside  by  light-minded  or  dull  men, 
in  their  blind  and  exclusive  homage  to  the  literary  autocrat. 
It  was  a  fine  reproof  he  gave  to  Boswell  on  one  occasion,  25 
for  talking  of  Johnson  as  entitled  to  the  honor  of  exclusive 
superiority.  "  Sir,  you  are  for  making  a  monarchy  what 
should  be  a  republic."  On  another  occasion,  when  he  was 
conversing  in  company  with  great  vivacity,  and  apparently 
to  the  satisfaction  of  those  around  him,  an  honest  Swiss  30 
who  sat  near,  one  George  Michael  Moser,  keeper  of  the 
Royal  Academy,  perceiving  Dr.  Johnson  rolling  himself  as  if 
about  to  speak,  exclaimed,  "  Stay,  stay  !  Toctor  Shonson  is 
going  to  say  something."  "  And  are  you  sure,  sir,"  replied 


316  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

Goldsmith,  sharply,  "that  you   can    comprehend  what  he 
says  ? " 

This  clever  rebuke,  which  gives   the    main  zest   to   the 
anecdote,   is   omitted   by    Boswell,  who    probably   did  not 
5  perceive  the  point  of  it. 

He  relates  another  anecdote  of  the  kind  on  the  authority 
of  Johnson  himself.  The  latter  and  Goldsmith  were  one 
evening  in  company  with  the  Rev.  George  Graham,  a  mas- 
ter of  Eton,  who,  notwithstanding  the  sobriety  of  his  cloth, 

10  had  got  intoxicated  "to  about  the  pitch  of  looking  at  one 
man  and  talking  to  another."  "  Doctor,"  cried  he,  in  an 
ecstasy  of  devotion  and  good-will,  but  goggling  by  mistake 
upon  Goldsmith,  "  I  should  be  glad  to  see  you  at  Eton." 
"  I  shall  be  glad  to  wait  upon  you,"  replied  Goldsmith. 

15  "  No,  no  !  "  cried  the  other,  eagerly ;  "  't  is  not  you  I  mean, 
Doctor  Minor,  't  is  Doctor  Major  there."  "  You  may  easily 
conceive,"  said  Johnson,  in  relating  the  anecdote,  "what  effect 
this  had  upon  Goldsmith,  who  was  irascible  as  a  hornet." 
The  only  comment,  however,  which  he  is  said  to  have  made, 

20  partakes  more  of  quaint  and  dry  humor  than  bitterness. 
"That  Graham,"  said  he,  "is  enough  to  make  one  commit 
suicide."  What  more  could  be  said  to  express  the  intoler- 
able nuisance  of  a  consummate  bore  1 

We  have  now  given  the  last  scenes  between  Goldsmith 

25  and  Johnson  which  stand  recorded  by  Boswell.  The  latter 
called  on  the  poet,  a  few  days  after  the  dinner  at  Dilly's,  to 
take  leave  of  him  prior  to  departing  for  Scotland ;  yet,  even 
in  this  last  interview,  he  contrives  to  get  up  a  charge  of 
"jealousy  and  envy."  Goldsmith,  he  would  fain  persuade 

30  us,  is  very  angry  that  Johnson  is  going  to  travel  with  him  in 
Scotland,  and  endeavors  to  persuade  him  that  he  will  be 
a  dead  weight  "to  lug  along  through  the  Highlands  and 
Hebrides."  Any  one  else,  knowing  the  character  and  habits 


DOCTORS   MAJOR  AND   MINOR  317 

of  Johnson,  would  have  thought  the  same  ;  and  no  one  but 
Boswell  would  have  supposed  his  office  of  bear-leader  to 
the  ursa  major  a  thing  to  be  envied.1 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

i.  What  sentence  in  the  chapter  most  highly  indicates  Irving's 
admiration  and  esteem  for  Goldsmith  ?  Is  there  anything  in  Irving's 
own  life  to  make  him  naturally  sympathetic  with  Goldsmith  ? 


1  One  of  Peter  Pindar's  (Dr.  Wolcot)  most  amusing  jetix  cT esprit  is  his  con- 
gratulatory epistle  to  Boswell  on  this  tour  of  which  we  subjoin  a  few  lines. 

"  O  Boswell,  Bozzy,  Bruce,  whate'er  thy  name, 
Thou  mighty  shark  for  anecdote  and  fame ; 
Thou  jackal,  leading  lion  Johnson  forth, 
To  eat  M'Pherson  'midst  his  native  north ; 
To  frighten  grave  professors  with  his  roar, 
And  shake  the  Hebrides  from  shore  to  shore. 

Bless'd  be  thy  labors,  most  adventurous  Bozzy, 

Bold  rival  of  Sir  John  and  Dame  Piozzi ; 

Heavens  !  with  what  laurels  shall  thy  head  be  crown'd ! 

A  grove,  a  forest,  shall  thy  ears  surround  ! 

Yes !  whilst  the  Rambler  shall  a  comet  blaze, 

And  gild  a  world  of  darkness  with  his  rays, 

Thee,  too,  that  world  with  wonderment  shall  hail, 

A  lively,  bouncing  cracker  at  his  tail ! " 


CHAPTER   XLII 

Project  of  a  Dictionary  of  Arts  and  Sciences  —  Disappointment  —  Negligent 
Authorship — Application  for  a  Pension  —  Beattie's  Essay  on  Truth  — 
Public  Adulation — A  High-minded  Rebuke. 

The  works  which  Goldsmith  had  still  in  hand  being 
already  paid  for,  and  the  money  gone,  some  new  scheme 
must  be  devised  to  provide  for  the  past  and  the  future,  — 
for  impending  debts  which  threatened  to  crush  him,  and 
5  expenses  which  were  continually  increasing.  He  now  pro- 
jected a  work  of  greater  compass  than  any  he  had  yet 
undertaken  :  a  Dictionary  of  Arts  and  Sciences  on  a  com- 
prehensive scale,  which  was  to  occupy  a  number  of  volumes. 
For  this  he  received  promise  of  assistance  from  several  power- 

10  ful  hands.  Johnson  was  to  contribute  an  article  on  ethics ; 
Burke,  an  abstract  of  his  "  Essay  on  the  Sublime  and 
Beautiful,"  an  essay  on  the  Berkeleyan  system  of  philosophy, 
and  others  on  political  science  ;  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  an 
essay  on  painting ;  and  Garrick,  while  he  undertook  on  his 

15  own  part  to  furnish  an  essay  on  acting,  engaged  Dr.  Burney 
to  contribute  an  article  on  music.  Here  was  a  great  array 
of  talent  positively  engaged,  while  other  writers  of  eminence 
were  to  be  sought  for  the  various  departments  of  science. 
Goldsmith  was  to  edit  the  whole.  An  undertaking  of  this 

20  kind,  while  it  did  not  incessantly  task  and  exhaust  his 
inventive  powers  by  original  composition,  would  give  agree- 
able and  profitable  exercise  to  his  taste  and  judgment  in 
selecting,  compiling,  and  arranging,  and  he  calculated  to 
diffuse  over  the  whole  the  acknowledged  graces  of  his 

25  style. 

318 


NATURAL  HISTORY 


319 


He  drew  up  a  prospectus  of  the  plan,  which  is  said  by 
Bishop  Percy,  who  saw  it,  to  have  been  written  with  uncom- 
mon ability,  and  to  have  had  that  perspicuity  and  elegance 
for  which  his  writings  are  remarkable.  This  paper,  unfor- 
tunately, is  no  longer  in  existence.  5 

Goldsmith's  expectations,  always  sanguine  respecting  any 
new  plan,  were  raised  to  an  extraordinary  height  by  the 
present  project;  and  well  they  might  be,  when  we  consider 
the  powerful  coadjutors  already  pledged.  They  were  doomed, 
however,  to  complete  disappointment.  Davies,  the  biblio-  10 
pole  of  Russell  Street,  lets  us  into  the  secret  of  this  failure. 
"  The  booksellers,"  said  he,  "  notwithstanding  they  had  a 
very  good  opinion  of  his  abilities,  yet  were  startled  at  the 
bulk,  importance,  and  expense  of  so  great  an  undertaking, 
the  fate  of  which  was  to  depend  upon  the  industry  of  a  man  15 
with  whose  indolence  of  temper  and  method  of  procrasti- 
nation they  had  long  been  acquainted." 

Goldsmith  certainly  gave  reason  for  some  such  distrust 
by  the  heedlessness  with  which  he  conducted  his  literary 
undertakings.  Those  unfinished,  but  paid  for,  would  be  20 
suspended  to  make  way  for  some  job  that  was  to  provide 
for  present  necessities.  Those  thus  hastily  taken  up  would 
be  as  hastily  executed,  and  the  whole,  however  pressing, 
would  be  shoved  aside  and  left  "  at  loose  ends,"  on  some 
sudden  call  to  social  enjoyment  or  recreation.  25 

Cradock  tells  us  that  on  one  occasion,  when  Goldsmith 
was  hard  at  work  on  his  "  Natural  History,"  he  sent  to  Dr. 
Percy  and  himself,  entreating  them  to  finish  some  pages  of 
his  work  which  lay  upon  his  table,  and  for  which  the  press 
was  urgent,  he  being  detained  by  other  engagements  at  30 
Windsor.  They  met  by  appointment  at  his  chambers  in 
the  Temple,  where  they  found  everything  in  disorder,  and 
costly  books  lying  scattered  about  on  the  tables  and  on  the 
floor ;  many  of  the  books  on  natural  history  which  he  had 


320  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

recently  consulted  lay  open  among  uncorrected  proof-sheets. 
The  subject  in  hand,  and  from  which  he  had  suddenly 
broken  off,  related  to  birds.  "Do  you  know  anything 
about  birds  ?  "  asked  Dr.  Percy,  smiling.  "  Not  an  atom," 
5  replied  Cradock  ;  "  do  you  ?  "  "  Not  I.  I  scarcely  know  a 
goose  from  a  swan  ;  however,  let  us  try  what  we  can  do." 
They  set  to  work  and  completed  their  friendly  task.  Gold- 
smith, however,  when  he  came  to  revise  it,  made  such  alter- 
ations that  they  could  neither  of  them  recognize  their 

10  own  share.  The  engagement  at  Windsor,  which  had  thus 
caused  Goldsmith  to  break  off  suddenly  from  his  multifa- 
rious engagements,  was  a  party  of  pleasure  with  some  liter- 
ary ladies.  Another  anecdote  was  current,  illustrative  of  the 
carelessness  with  which  he  executed  works  requiring  accu- 

15  racy  and  research.  On  the  226.  of  June  he  had  received 
payment  in  advance  for  a  "  Grecian  History  "  in  two  vol- 
umes, though  only  one  was  finished.  As  he  was  pushing  on 
doggedly  at  the  second  volume,  Gibbon,  the  historian,  called 
in.  "  You  are  the  man  of  all  others  I  wish  to  see,"  cried 

20  the  poet,  glad  to  be  saved  the  trouble  of  reference  to  his 
books.  "  What  was  the  name  of  that  Indian  king  who  gave 
Alexander  the  Great  so  much  trouble  ?  "  "  Montezuma," 
replied  Gibbon,  sportively.  The  heedless  author  was  about 
committing  the  name  to  paper  without  reflection,  when  Gib- 

25  bon  pretended  to  recollect  himself,  and  gave  the  true  name, 
Porus. 

This  story,  very  probably,  was  a  sportive  exaggeration ; 
but  it  was  a  multiplicity  of  anecdotes  like  this  and  the  pre- 
ceding one,  some  true  and  some  false,  which  had  impaired 

30  the  confidence  of  booksellers  in  Goldsmith  as  a  man  to  be 
relied  on  for  a  task  requiring  wide  and  accurate  research,  and 
close  and  long-continued  application.  The  project  of  the 
"Universal  Dictionary,"  therefore,  met  with  no  encourage- 
ment, and  fell  through. 


PENSION    DENIED 


321 


The  failure  of  this  scheme,  on  which  he  had  built  such 
spacious  hopes,  sank  deep  into  Goldsmith's  heart  He  was 
still  further  grieved  and  mortified  by  the  failure  of  an  effort 
made  by  some  of  his  friends  to  obtain  for  him  a  pension 
from  government.  There  had  been  a  talk  of  the  disposi-  5 
"tion  of  the  ministry  to  extend  the  bounty  of  the  crown  to 
distinguished  literary  men  in  pecuniary  difficulty,  without 
regard  to  their  political  creed :  when  the  merits  and  claims 
of  Goldsmith,  however,  were  laid  before  them,  they  met 
no  favor.  The  sin  of  sturdy  independence  lay  at  his  door.  10 
He  had  refused  to  become  a  ministerial  hack  when  offered 
a  carte  blanche  by  Parson  Scott,  the  cabinet  emissary. 
The  wondering  parson  had  left  him  in  poverty  and  "his 
garret"  and  there  the  ministry  were  disposed  to  suffer  him 
to  remain.  15 

In  the  mean  time  Dr.  Beattie  comes  out  with  his  "  Essay 
on  Truth,"  and  all  the  orthodox  world  are  thrown  into  a 
paroxysm  of  contagious  ecstasy.  He  is  cried  up  as  the 
great  champion  of  Christianity  against  the  attacks  of  modern 
philosophers  and  infidels ;  he  is  feted  and  flattered  in  every  20 
way.  He  receives  at  Oxford  the  honorary  degree  of  Doctor 
of  Civil  Law,  at  the  same  time  with  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 
The  King  sends  for  him,  praises  his  Essay,  and  gives  him  a 
pension  of  two  hundred  pounds. 

Goldsmith  feels  more  acutely  the  denial  of  a  pension  to  25 
himself  when  one  has  thus  been  given  unsolicited  to  a  man 
he  might  without  vanity  consider  so  much  his  inferior.  He 
was  not  one  to  conceal  his  feelings.  "  Here 's  such  a  stir," 
said  he  one  day  at  Thrale's  table,  "  about  a  fellow  that  has 
written  one  book,  and  I  have  written  so  many  ! "  3° 

"  Ah,  Doctor  !  "  exclaimed  Johnson,  in  one  of  his  caustic 
moods,  "  there  go  two-and-forty  sixpences,  you  know,  to  one 
guinea."  This  is  one  of  the  cuts  at  poor  Goldsmith  in  which 
Johnson  went  contrary  to  head  and  heart  in  his  love  for 


322  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

saying  what  is  called  a  "good  thing."  No  one  knew  better 
than  himself  the  comparative  superiority  of  the  writings  of 
Goldsmith  ;  but  the  jingle  of  the  sixpences  and  the  guinea 
was  not  to  be  resisted. 

5  "  Everybody,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Thrale,  "  loves  Dr.  Beattie, 
but  Goldsmith,  who  says  he  cannot  bear  the  sight  of  so  much 
applause  as  they  all  bestow  upon  him.  Did  he  not  tell  us 
so  himself,  no  one  would  believe  he  was  so  exceedingly  ill- 
natured." 

10  He  told  them  so  himself  because  he  was  too  open  and 
unreserved  to  disguise  his  feelings,  and  because  he  really 
considered  the  praise  lavished  on  Beattie  extravagant,  as  in 
fact  it  was.  It  was  all,  of  course,  set  down  to  sheer  envy 
and  uncharitableness.  To  add  to  his  annoyance,  he  found 

15  his  friend,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  joining  in  the  universal 
adulation.  He  had  painted  a  full-length  portrait  of  Beattie 
decked  in  the  doctor's  robes  in  which  he  had  figured  at 
Oxford,  with  the  "Essay  on  Truth"  under  his  arm  and  the 
angel  of  truth  at  his  side,  while  Voltaire  figured  as  one  of 

20  the  demons  of  infidelity,  sophistry,  and  falsehood,  driven 
into  utter  darkness. 

Goldsmith  had  known  Voltaire  in  early  life ;  he  had  been 
his  admirer  and  his  biographer ;  he  grieved  to  find  him 
receiving  such  an  insult  from  the  classic  pencil  of  his  friend. 

25  "  It  is  unworthy  of  you,"  said  he  to  Sir  Joshua,  "  to  debase 
so  high  a  genius  as  Voltaire  before  so  mean  a  writer  as 
Beattie.  Beattie  and  his  book  will  be  forgotten  in  ten  years, 
while  Voltaire's  fame  will  last  forever.  Take  care  it  does 
not  perpetuate  this  picture  to  the  shame  of  such  a  man 

30  as  you."  This  noble  and  high-minded  rebuke  is  the  only 
instance  on  record  of  any  reproachful  words  between  the 
poet  and  the  painter ;  and  we  are  happy  to  find  that  it  did 
not  destroy  the  harmony  of  their  intercourse. 


TOPICS   AND  QUESTIONS  323 

TOPICS    AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  What  are  the  most  desirable  graces  of  style?     [See  also  ques- 
tion I  on  Chapter  XL] 

2.  Goldsmith's  carelessness  as  a  writer. 

3.  Why  did  Goldsmith's  project  for  a  "  Universal  Dictionary  "  fail  ? 

4.  Why  did  not  Goldsmith  receive  a  pension  from  the  Crown  ?     If 
he  had  received  one  should  you  think  less  highly  of  him  ? 

5.  Has   Goldsmith's   estimate   of    Voltaire's  fame   been   justified? 
[Consult  teacher  of  French.] 


CHAPTER   XLIII 

Toil  without  Hope — The  Poet  in  the  Green-Room;  In  the  Flower-Garden; 
At  Vauxhall;  Dissipation  without  Gayety  —  Cradock  in  Town;  Friendly 
Sympathy ;  A  Parting  Scene ;  An  Invitation  to  Pleasure. 

Thwarted  in  the  plans  and  disappointed  in  the  hopes  which 
had  recently  cheered  and  animated  him,  Goldsmith  found 
the  labor  at  his  half-finished  tasks  doubly  irksome  from  the 
consciousness  that  the  completion  of  them  could  not  relieve 
5  him  from  his  pecuniary  embarrassments.  His  impaired  health, 
also,  rendered  him  less  capable  than  formerly  of  sedentary 
application,  and  continual  perplexities  disturbed  the  flow  of 
thought  necessary  for  original  composition.  He  lost  his 
usual  gayety  and  good-humor,  and  became,  at  times,  peevish 

10  and  irritable.  Too  proud  of  spirit  to  seek  sympathy  or  relief 
from  his  friends,  for  the  pecuniary  difficulties  he  had  brought 
upon  himself  by  his  errors  and  extravagance,  and  unwilling, 
perhaps,  to  make  known  their  amount,  he  buried  his  cares 
and  anxieties  in  his  own  bosom,  and  endeavored  in  company 

15  to  keep  up  his  usual  air  of  gayety  and  unconcern.  This 
gave  his  conduct  an  appearance  of  fitfulness  and  caprice, 
varying  suddenly  from  moodiness  to  mirth,  and  from  silent 
gravity  to  shallow  laughter ;  causing  surprise  and  ridicule  in 
those  who  were  not  aware  of  the  sickness  of  heart  which  lay 

20  beneath. 

His  poetical  reputation,  too,  was  sometimes  a  disadvan- 
tage to  him ;  it  drew  upon  him  a  notoriety  which  he  was 
not  always  in  the  mood  or  the  vein  to  act  up  to.  "  Good 
heavens,  Mr.  Foote,"  exclaimed  an  actress  at  the  Hay- 

25  market  Theatre,  "  what  a  humdrum  kind  of  man  Dr.  Gold- 
smith appears  in  our  green-room  compared  with  the  figure 


THE    POET    IN    THE    FLOWER-GARDEN        325 

he  makes  in  his  poetry  ! "  "  The  reason  of  that,  madam," 
replied  Foote,  "  is  because  the  Muses  are  better  company 
than  the  players." 

Beauclerc's  letters  to  his  friend,  Lord  Charlemont,  who 
was  absent  in  Ireland,  give  us  now  and  then  an  indica-  5 
tion  of  the  whereabout  of  the  poet  during  the  present  year. 
"  I  have  been  but  once  to  the  club  since  you  left  England," 
writes  he ;  "  we  were  entertained,  as  usual,  with  Goldsmith's 
absurdity."  With  Beauclerc  everything  was  absurd  that  was 
not  polished  and  pointed.  In  another  letter  he  threatens,  10 
unless  Lord  Charlemont  returns  to  England,  to  bring  over 
the  whole  club,  and  let  them  loose  upon  him  to  drive  him 
home  by  their  peculiar  habits  of  annoyance;  —  Johnson 
shall  spoil  his  books;  Goldsmith  shall  pull  his  flowers ; 
and  last,  and  most  intolerable  of  all,  Boswell  shall  —  talk  15 
to  him.  It  would  appear  that  the  poet,  who  had  a  passion 
for  flowers,  was  apt  to  pass  much  of  his  time  in  the  garden 
when  on  a  visit  to  a  country-seat,  much  to  the  detriment  of 
the  flower-beds  and  the  despair  of  the  gardener. 

The  summer  wore  heavily  away  with  Goldsmith.     He  had  20 
not  his  usual  solace  of  a  country  retreat;  his  health  was 
impaired  and  his  spirits  depressed.     Sir  Joshua  Reynolds, 
who  perceived  the  state  of  his  mind,  kindly  gave  him  much 
of  his   company.     In   the   course  of   their  interchange  of 
thought,  Goldsmith  suggested  to  him  the  story  of  Ugolino,  25 
as  a  subject  for  his  pencil.     The  painting  founded  on  it 
remains  a  memento  of  their  friendship. 

On  the  4th  of  August  we  find  them  together  at  Vauxhall, 
at  that  time  a  place  in  high  vogue,  and  which  had  once 
been  to  Goldsmith  a  scene  of  Oriental  splendor  and  delight.  30 
We  have,  in  fact,  in  the  "  Citizen  of  the  World,"  a  picture 
of  it  as  if  had  struck  him  in  former  years  and  in  his  happier 
moods.  "Upon  entering  the  gardens,"  says  the  Chinese 
philosopher,  "  I  found  every  sense  occupied  with  more  than 


326  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

expected  pleasure  :  the  lights  everywhere  glimmering  through 
the  scarcely  moving  trees ;  the  full-bodied  concert  bursting 
on  the  stillness  of  the  night;  the  natural  concert  of  the 
birds  in  the  more  retired  part  of  the  grove,  vying  with 
5  that  which  was  formed  by  art ;  the  company  gayly  dressed, 
looking  satisfaction,  and  the  tables  spread  with  various 
delicacies,  —  all  conspired  to  fill  my  imagination  with  the 
visionary  happiness  of  the  Arabian  law-giver,  and  lifted  me 
into  an  ecstasy  of  admiration."1 

10  Everything  now,  however,  is  seen  with  different  eyes; 
with  him  it  is  dissipation  without  pleasure;  and  he  finds  it 
impossible  anj  longer,  by  mingling  in  the  gay  and  giddy 
throng  of  apparently  prosperous  and  happy  beings,  to  escape 
from  the  carking  care  which  is  clinging  to  his  heart. 

15  His  kind  friend,  Cradock,  came  up  to  town  towards 
autumn,  when  all  the  fashionable  world  was  in  the  country, 
to  give  his  wife  the  benefit  of  a  skilful  dentist.  He  took 
lodgings  in  Norfolk  Street,  to  be  in  Goldsmith's  neighbor- 
hood, and  passed  most  of  his  mornings  with  him.  "  I  found 

20  him,"  he  says,  "  much  altered  and  at  times  very  low.  He 
wished  me  to  look  over  and  revise  some  of  his  works ;  but, 
with  a  select  friend  or  two,  I  was  more  pressing  that  he 
should  publish  by  subscription  his  two  celebrated  poems 
of  the  '  Traveller '  and  the  '  Deserted  Village,'  with  notes." 

25  The  idea  of  Cradock  was,  that  the  subscription  would  enable 
wealthy  persons,  favorable  to  Goldsmith,  to  contribute  to 
his  pecuniary  relief  without  wounding  his  pride.  "  Gold- 
smith," said  he,  "readily  gave  up  to  me  his  private  copies, 
and  said,  '  Pray  do  what  you  please  with  them.'  But  whilst 

30  he  sat  near  me,  he  rather  submitted  to  than  encouraged  my 
zealous  proceedings. 

"I   one  morning  called   upon   him,  however,  and  found 
him  infinitely  better  than  I  had  expected  ;  and,  in  a  kind  of 

1  Citizen  of  the  World,  letter  Ixxi. 


CRADOCK   IN   TOWN 


327 


exulting  style,  he  exclaimed, '  Here  are  some  of  the  best  of 
my  prose  writings  ;  I  have  been  hard  at  work  since  midnight, 
and  I  desire  you  to  examine  them.'  'These,'  said  I,  'are 
excellent  indeed.'  'They  are,'  replied  he,  'intended  as  an 
introduction  to  a  body  of  arts  and  sciences.' "  5 

Poor  Goldsmith  was,  in  fact,  gathering  together  the  frag- 
ments of  his  shipwreck  —  the  notes  and  essays,  and  memo- 
randa collected  for  his  dictionary;  and  proposed  to  found 
on  them  a  work  in  two  volumes,  to  be  entitled  "  A  Survey 
of  Experimental  Philosophy."  10 

The  plan  of  the  subscription  came  to  nothing,  and  the 
projected  survey  never  was  executed.  The  head  might  yet 
devise,  but  the  heart  was  failing  him  ;  his  talent  at  hoping, 
which  gave  him  buoyancy  to  carry  out  his  enterprises,  was 
almost  at  an  end.  15 

Cradock's  farewell-scene  with  him  is  told  in  a  simple  but 
touching  manner. 

"The  day  before  I  was  to  set  out  for  Leicestershire,  I 
insisted  upon  his  dining  with  us.  He  replied,  'I  will,  but 
on  one  condition,  that  you  will  not  ask  me  to  eat  anything.'  20 
'  Nay,'  said  I,  '  this  answer  is  absolutely  unkind,  -for  I  had 
hoped,  as  we  are  supplied  from  the  Crown  and  Anchor, 
that  you  would  have  named  something  you  might  have 
relished.'  'Well,'  was  the  reply,  'if  you  will  but  explain  it 
to  Mrs.  Cradock,  I  will  certainly  wait  upon  you.'  25 

"The  Doctor  found,  as  usual,  at  my  apartments,  news- 
papers and  pamphlets,  and  with  a  pen  and  ink  he  amused 
himself  as  well  as  he  could.  I  had  ordered  from  the  tavern 
some  fish,  a  roasted  joint  of  lamb,  and  a  tart ;  and  the 
Doctor  either  sat  down  or  walked  about  just  as  he  pleased.  30 
After  dinner  he  took  some  wine  with  biscuits;  but  I  was 
obliged  soon  to  leave  him  for  a  while,  as  I  had  matters  to 
settle  prior  to  my  next  day's  journey.  On  my  return,  coffee 
was  ready,  and  the  Doctor  appeared  more  cheerful  (for  Mrs. 


328  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

Cradock  was  always  rather  a  favorite  with  him),  and  in  the 
evening  he  endeavored  to  talk  and  remark  as  usual,  but 
all  was  force.  He  stayed  till  midnight,  and  I  insisted  on 
seeing  him  safe  home,  and  we  most  cordially  shook  hands 

5  at  the  Temple-gate."  Cradock  little  thought  that  this  was 
to  be  their  final  parting.  He  looked  back  to  it  with  mourn- 
ful recollections  in  after-years,  and  lamented  that  he  had  not 
remained  longer  in  town  at  every  inconvenience,  to  solace 
the  poor  broken-spirited  poet. 

10  The  latter  continued  in  town  all  the  autumn.  At  the 
opening  of  the  Opera-House,  on  the  2oth  of  November, 
Mrs.  Yates,  an  actress  whom  he  held  in  great  esteem, 
delivered  a  poetical  exordium  of  his  composition.  Beau- 
clerc,  in  a  letter  to  Lord  Charlemont,  pronounced  it  very 

15  good,  and  predicted  that  it  would  soon  be  in  all  the  papers. 
It  does  not  appear,  however,  to  have  been  ever  published. 
In  his  fitful  state  of  mind  Goldsmith  may  have  taken 
no  care  about  it,  and  thus  it  has  been  lost  to  the  world, 
although  it  was  received  with  great  applause  by  a  crowded 

20  and  brilliant  audience. 

A  gleam  of  sunshine  breaks  through  the  gloom  that  was 
gathering  over  the  poet.  Towards  the  end  of  the  year  he 
receives  another  Christmas  invitation  to  Barton.  A  country 
Christmas! — with  all  the  cordiality  of  the  fireside  circle, 

25  and  the  joyous  revelry  of  the  oaken  hall,  —  what  a  contrast 
to  the  loneliness  of  a  bachelor's  chambers  in  the  Temple ! 
It  is  not  to  be  resisted.  But  how  is  poor  Goldsmith  to 
raise  the  ways  and  means  ?  His  purse  is  empty ;  his  book- 
sellers are  already  in  advance  to  him.  As  a  last  resource, 

30  he  applies  to  Garrick.  Their  mutual  intimacy  at  Barton 
may  have  suggested  him  as  an  alternative.  The  old  loan 
of  forty  pounds  has  never  been  paid ;  and  Newbery's  note, 
pledged  as  a  security,  has  never  been  taken  up.  An  addi- 
tional loan  of  sixty  pounds  is  now  asked  for,  thus  increasing 


CHRISTMAS   AT    BARTON 


329 


the  loan  to  one  hundred;  to  insure  the  payment,  he  now 
offers,  besides  Newbery's  note,  the  transfer  of  the  comedy 
of  the  "  Good-natured  Man "  to  Drury  Lane,  with  such 
alterations  as  Garrick  may  suggest.  Garrick,  in  reply, 
evades  the  offer  of  the  altered  comedy,  alludes  significantly  5 
to  a  new  one  which  Goldsmith  had  talked  of  writing  for 
him,  and  offers  to  furnish  the  money  required  on  his  own 
acceptance. 

The  reply  of  Goldsmith  bespeaks  a  heart  brimful  of  grati- 
tude and  overflowing  with  fond  anticipations  of  Barton  and  10 
the  smiles  of  its  fair  residents.  "  My  dear  friend,"  writes 
he,  "  I  thank  you.  I  wish  I  could  do  something  to  serve 
you.  I  shall  have  a  comedy  for  you  in  a  season  or  two,  at 
farthest,  that  I  believe  will  be  worth  your  acceptance,  for  I 
fancy  I  will  make  it  a  fine  thing.  You  shall  have  the  refusal.  15 
...  I  will  draw  upon  you  one  month  after  date  for  sixty 
pounds,  and  your  acceptance  will  be  ready  money,  part  of 
which  I  want  to  go  down  to  Barton  with.  May  God  preserve 
my  honest  little  man,  for  he  has  my  heart.  Ever, 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH."       20 

And  having  thus  scrambled  together  a  little  pocket-money, 
by  hard  contrivance,  poor  Goldsmith  turns  his  back  upon 
care  and  trouble,  and  Temple  quarters,  to  forget  for  a  time 
his  desolate  bachelorhood  in  the  family  circle  and  a  Christ- 
mas fireside  at  Barton.  25 

TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1 .  Mention  pathetic  incidents  in  the  last  days  of  the  broken-spirited 
Goldsmith. 

2.  Would  a  novel  picturing  imaginary  incidents  of  the  last  days  of 
Goldsmith's  life  differ  in  important  particulars  from  a  biography  con- 
taining only  the  facts  ? 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

A  Return  to  Drudgery;  Forced  Gayety;  Retreat  to  the  Country;  The  Poem  of 
Retaliation  —  Portrait  of  Garrick ;  Of  Goldsmith ;  Of  Reynolds  —  Illness 
of  the  Poet;  His  Death;  Grief  of  his  Friends  —  A  Last  Word  respecting 
the  Jessamy  Bride. 

The  Barton  festivities  are  over;  Christmas,  with  all  its 
home-felt  revelry  of  the  heart,  has  passed  like  a  dream ;  the 
Jessamy  Bride  has  beamed  her  last  smile  upon  the  poor 
poet,  and  the  early  part  of  1774  finds  him  in  his  now  dreary 
5  bachelor  abode  in  the  Temple,  toiling  fitfully  and  hopelessly 
at  a  multiplicity  of  tasks.  His  "Animated  Nature,"  so  long 
delayed,  so  often  interrupted,  is  at  length  announced  for 
publication,  though  it  has  yet  to  receive  a  few  finishing 
touches.  He  is  preparing  a  third  "  History  of  England,"  to 

10  be  compressed  and  condensed  in  one  volume,  for  the  use  of 
schools.  He  is  revising  his  "Inquiry  into  Polite  Learning," 
for  which  he  receives  the  pittance  of  five  guineas,  much 
needed  in  his  present  scantiness  of  purse ;  he  is  arranging 
his  "  Survey  of  Experimental  Philosophy,"  and  he  is  trans- 

15  lating  the  "Comic  Romance"  of  Scarron.  Such  is  a  part 
of  the  various  labors  of  a  drudging,  depressing  kind,  by 
which  his  head  is  made  weary  and  his  heart  faint.  "If  there 
is  a  mental  drudgery,"  says  Sir  Walter  Scott,  "which  lowers 
the  spirits  and  lacerates  the  nerves,  like  the  toil  of  a  slave, 

20  it  is  that  which  is  exacted  by  literary  composition,  when  the 
heart  is  not  in  unison  with  the  work  upon  which  the  head  is 
employed.  Add  to  the  unhappy  author's  task  sickness, 
sorrow,  or  the  pressure  of  unfavorable  circumstances,  and 
the  labor  of  the  bondsman  becomes  light  in  comparison." 

25  Goldsmith  again  makes  an  effort  to  rally  his  spirits  by  going 


FORCED   GAYETY  331 

into  gay  society.  "  Our  Club,"  writes  Beauclerc  to  Charle- 
mont,  on  the  i2th  of  February,  "has  dwindled  away  to 
nothing.  Sir  Joshua  and  Goldsmith  have  got  into  such  a 
round  of  pleasures  that  they  have  no  time."  This  shows 
how  little  Beauclerc  was  the  companion  of  the  poet's  mind,  5 
or  could  judge  of  him  below  the  surface.  Reynolds,  the 
kind  participator  in  joyless  dissipation,  could  have  told  a 
different  story  of  his  companion's  heart-sick  gayety. 

In  this  forced  mood  Goldsmith  gave  entertainments  in  his 
chambers  in  the  Temple ;  the  last  of  which  was  a  dinner  to  10 
Johnson,  Reynolds,  and  others  of  his  intimates,  who  partook 
with  sorrow  and   reluctance  of  his  imprudent  hospitality. 
The   first   course   vexed   them   by  its  needless  profusion. 
When  a  second,  equally  extravagant,  was  served  up,  John- 
son and  Reynolds  declined  to  partake  of  it;  the  rest  of  the  15 
company,  understanding  their  motives,  followed  their  exam- 
ple, and  the  dishes  went  from  the  table  untasted.    Gold- 
smith felt  sensibly  this  silent  and  well-intended  rebuke. 

The  gayeties  of  society,  however,  cannot  medicine  for  any 
length  of  time  a  mind  diseased.     Wearied  by  the  distrac-  20 
tions  and  harassed  by  the  expenses  of  a  town-life,  which  he 
had  not  the  discretion  to  regulate,  Goldsmith  took  the  reso- 
lution, too  tardily  adopted,  of  retiring  to  the  serene  quiet, 
and  cheap  and  healthful  pleasures  of  the  country,  and  of 
passing  only  two  months  of  the  year  in  London.    He  accord-  25 
ingly  made  arrangements  to  sell  his  right  in  the  Temple 
chambers,  and  in  the  month  of  March  retired  to  his  country 
quarters  at  Hyde,  there  to  devote  himself  to  toil.     At  this 
dispirited  juncture,  when  inspiration  seemed  to  be  at  an  end, 
and  the  poetic  fire  extinguished,  a  spark  fell  on  his  combus-  3° 
tible  imagination  and  set  it  in  a  blaze. 

He  belonged  to  a  temporary  association  of  men  of  talent, 
some  of  them  members  of  the  Literary  Club,  who  dined 
together  occasionally  at  the  St.  James's  Coffee-House.  At 


332  /       OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

these  dinners,  as  usual,  he  was  one  of  the  last  to  arrive. 
On  one  occasion,  when  he  was  more  dilatory  than  usual,  a 
whim  seized  the  company  to  write  epitaphs  on  him,  as  "  The 
late  Dr.  Goldsmith,"  and  several  were  thrown  off  in  a  play- 
5  ful  vein,  hitting  off  his  peculiarities.  The  only  one  extant 
was  written  by  Garrick,  and  has  been  preserved,  very  prob- 
ably, by  its  pungency :  — 

"  Here  lies  poet  Goldsmith,  for  shortness  called  Noll, 
Who  wrote  like  an  angel,  but  talked  like  poor  poll." 

10  Goldsmith  did  not  relish  the  sarcasm,  especially  as  coming 
from  such  a  quarter.  He  was  not  very  ready  at  repartee  ; 
but  he  took  his  time,  and  in  the  interval  of  his  various  tasks 
concocted  a  series  of  epigrammatic  sketches,  under  the  title 
of  "Retaliation,"  in  which  the  characters  of  his  distinguished 

15  intimates  were  admirably  hit  off,  with  a  mixture  of  generous 
praise  and  good-humored  raillery.  In  fact  the  poem,  for  its 
graphic  truth,  its  nice  discrimination,  its  terse  good  sense, 
and  its  shrewd  knowledge  of  the  world,  must  have  electrified 
the  club  almost  as  much  as  the  first  appearance  of  "  The 

20  Traveller,"  and  let  them  still  deeper  into  the  character  and 

talents  of  the  man  they  had  been  accustomed  to  consider  as 

their  butt.     "  Retaliation,"  in  a  word,  closed  his  accounts 

with  the  club,  and  balanced  all  his  previous  deficiencies. 

The  portrait  of  David  Garrick  is  one  of  the  most  elabo- 

25  rate  in  the  poem.  When  the  poet  came  to  touch  it  off, 
he  had  some  lurking  piques  to  gratify,  which  the  recent 
attack  had  revived.  He  may  have  forgotten  David's  cava- 
lier treatment  of  him,  in  the  early  days  of  his  comparative 
obscurity;  he  may  have  forgiven  his  refusal  of  his  plays; 

30  but  Garrick  had  been  capricious  in  his  conduct  in  the  times 
of  their  recent  intercourse  :  sometimes  treating  him  with 
gross  familiarity,  at  other  times  affecting  dignity  and  reserve, 
and  assuming  airs  of  superiority ;  frequently  he  had  been 
facetious  and  witty  in  company  at  his  expense,  and  lastly 


DAVID   GARRICK  333 

he  had  been  guilty  of  the  couplet  just  quoted.  Goldsmith, 
therefore,  touched  off  the  lights  and  shadows  of  his  char- 
acter with  a  free  hand,  and  at  the  same  time  gave  a  side-hit 
at  his  old  rival,  Kelly,  and  his  critical  persecutor,  Kenrick, 
in  making  them  sycophantic  satellites  of  the  actor.  Gold-  5 
smith,  however,  was  void  of  gall  even  in  his  revenge,  and 
his  very  satire  was  more  humorous  than  caustic :  — 

"  Here  lies  David  Garrick,  describe  him  who  can, 
An  abridgment  of  all  that  was  pleasant  in  man ; 
As  an  actor,  confess'd  without  rival  to  shine;  10 

As  a  wit,  if  not  first,  in  the  very  first  line: 
Yet,  with  talents  like  these,  and  an  excellent  heart, 
The  man  had  his  failings,  a  dupe  to  his  art. 
Like  an  ill-judging  beauty,  his  colors  he  spread, 
And  beplaster'd  with  rouge  his  own  natural  red.  1 5 

On  the  stage  he  was  natural,  simple,  affecting; 
'T  was  only  that  when  he  was  off  he  was  acting. 
With  no  reason  on  earth  to  go  out  of  his  way, 
He  turn'd  and  he  varied  full  ten  times  a  day: 

Though  secure  of  our  hearts,  yet  confoundedly  sick  20 

If  they  were  not  his  own  by  finessing  and  trick: 
He  cast  off  his  friends  as  a  huntsman  his  pack, 
For  he  knew,  when  he  pleased,  he  could  whistle  them  back. 
Of  praise  a  mere  glutton,  he  swallow'd  what  came, 
And  the  puff  of  a  dunce  he  mistook  it  for  fame;  25 

Till  his  relish,  grown  callous  almost  to  disease, 
Who  pepper'd  the  highest  was  surest  to  please. 
But  let  us  be  candid,  and  speak  out  our  mind, 
If  dunces  applauded,  he  paid  them  in  kind. 

Ye  Kenricks,  ye  Kellys,  and  Woodfalls  so  grave,  3° 

What  a  commerce  was  yours,  while  you  got  and  you  gave! 
How  did  Grub  Street  reecho  the  shouts  that  you  raised 
While  he  was  be-Rosciused  and  you  were  be-praised! 
But  peace  to  his  spirit,  wherever  it  flies, 

To  act  as  an  angel  and  mix  with  the  skies:  35 

Those  poets  who  owe  their  best  fame  to  his  skill, 
Shall  still  be  his  flatterers,  go  where  he  will ; 
Old  Shakspeare  receive  him  with  praise  and  with  love, 
And  Beaumonts  and  Bens  be  his  Kellys  above." 


334  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

This  portion  of  "  Retaliation  "  soon  brought  a  retort  from 
Garrick,  which  we  insert,  as  giving  something  of  a  likeness 
of  Goldsmith,  though  in  broad  caricature:  — 

"  Here,  Hermes,  says  Jove,  who  with  nectar  was  mellow, 
5  Go  fetch  me  some  clay  —  I  will  make  an  odd  fellow  : 

Right  and  wrong  shall  be  jumbled,  much  gold  and  some  dross, 

Without  cause  be  he  pleased,  without  cause  be  he  cross ; 

Be  sure,  as  I  work,  to  throw  in  contradictions, 

A  great  love  of  truth,  yet  a  mind  turn'd  to  fictions ; 
10  Now  mix  these  ingredients,  which,  warm'd  in  the  baking, 

Turn'd  to  learning  and  gaming,  religion,  and  raking. 

With  the  love  of  a  wench  let  his  writings  be  chaste; 

Tip  his  tongue  with  strange  matter,  his  lips  with  fine  taste ; 

That  the  rake  and  the  poet  o'er  all  may  prevail, 
15  Set  fire  to  the  head  and  set  fire  to  the  tail ; 

For  the  joy  of  each  sex  on  the  world  I  '11  bestow  it, 

This  scholar,  rake,  Christian,  dupe,  gamester,  and  poet. 

Though  a  mixture  so  odd,  he  shall  merit  great  fame, 

And  among  brother  mortals  be  Goldsmith  his  name ; 
20          When  on  earth  this  strange  meteor  no  more  shall  appear, 

You,  Hermes,  shall  fetch  him,  to  make  us  sport  here." 

The  charge  of  raking,  so  repeatedly  advanced  in  the  fore- 
going lines,  must  be  considered  a  sportive  one,  founded, 
perhaps,  on  an  incident  or  two  within  Garrick's  knowledge, 

25  but  not  borne  out  by  the  course  of  Goldsmith's  life.  He 
seems  to  have  had  a  tender  sentiment  for  the  sex,  but  per- 
fectly free  from  libertinism.  Neither  was  he  an  habitual 
gamester.  The  strictest  scrutiny  has  detected  no  settled 
vice  of  the  kind.  He  was  fond  of  a  game  of  cards,  but  an 

30  unskilful  and  careless  player.  Cards  in  those  days  were 
universally  introduced  into  society.  High  play  was,  in  fact, 
a  fashionable  amusement,  as  at  one  time  was  deep  drink- 
ing; and  a  man  might  occasionally  lose  large  sums,  and  be 
beguiled  into  deep  potations,  without  incurring  the  character 

35  of  a  gamester  or  a  drunkard.  Poor  Goldsmith,  on  his  advent 
into  high  society,  assumed  fine  notions  with  fine  clothes;  he 


CARD   PLAYING  335 

was  thrown  occasionally  among  high  players,  men  of  fortune 
who  could  sport  their  cool  hundred  as  carelessly  as  his  early 
comrades  at  Ballymahon  could  their  half-crowns.  Being  at 
all  times  magnificent  in  money-matters,  he  may  have  played 
with  them  in  their  own  way,  without  considering  that  what  5 
was  sport  to  them  to  him  was  ruin.  Indeed,  part  of  his  finan- 
cial embarrassments  may  have  arisen  from  losses  of  the  kind, 
incurred  inadvertently,  not  in  the  indulgence  of  a  habit. 
"  I  do  not  believe  Goldsmith  to  have  deserved  the  name  of 
gamester,"  said  one  of  his  contemporaries ;  "  he  liked  cards  10 
very  well,  as  other  people  do,  and  lost  and  won  occasionally, 
but  as  far  as  I  saw  or  heard,  and  I  had  many  opportunities 
of  hearing,  never  any  considerable  sum.  If  he  gamed  with 
any  one,  it  was  probably  with  Beauclerc,  but  I  do  not  know 
that  such  was  the  case."  15 

"  Retaliation,"  as  we  have  already  observed,  was  thrown 
off  in  parts,  at  intervals,  and  was  never  completed.  Some 
characters,  originally  intended  to  be  introduced,  remained 
unattempted  ;  others  were  but  partially  sketched  —  such  as 
the  one  of  Reynolds,  the  friend  of  his  heart,  and  which  he  20 
commenced  with  a  felicity  which  makes  us  regret  that  it 
should  remain  unfinished. 

"  Here  Reynolds  is  laid,  and  to  tell  you  my  mind, 
He  has  not  left  a  wiser  or  better  behind. 

His  pencil  was  striking,  resistless,  and  grand ;  25 

His  manners  were  gentle,  complying,  and  bland; 
Still  born  to  improve  us  in  every  part, 
His  pencil  our  faces,  his  manners  our  heart. 
To  coxcombs  averse,  yet  most  civilly  steering, 

When  they  judged  without  skill  he  was  still  hard  of  hearing;         30 
When  they  talked  of  their  Raphaels,  Correggios,  and  stuff, 
He  shifted  his  trumpet  and  only  took  snuff. 
By  flattery  unspoiled  " 

The    friendly    portrait    stood    unfinished   on    the   easel ; 
the  hand  of  the  artist  had  failed !     An  access  of  a  local  35 


336  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

complaint,  under  which  he  had  suffered  for  some  time  past, 
added  to  a  general  prostration  of  health,  brought  Goldsmith 
back  to  town  before  he  had  well  settled  himself  in  the 
country.  The  local  complaint  subsided,  but  was  followed  by 
5  a  low  nervous  fever.  He  was  not  aware  of  his  critical  situa- 
tion, and  intended  to  be  at  the  club  on  the  25th  of  March, 
on  which  occasion  Charles  Fox,  Sir  Charles  Bunbury  (one 
of  the  Horneck  connection),  and  two  other  new  members 
were  to  be  present.  In  the  afternoon,  however,  he  felt  so 

10  unwell  as  to  take  to  his  bed,  and  his  symptoms  soon  acquired 
sufficient  force  to  keep  him  there.  His  malady  fluctuated 
for  several  days,  and  hopes  were  entertained  of  his  recovery, 
but  they  proved  fallacious.  He  had  skilful  medical  aid  and 
faithful  nursing,  but  he  would  not  follow  the  advice  of  his 

15  physicians,  and  persisted  in  the  use  of  James's  powders, 
which  he  had  once  found  beneficial,  but  which  were  now 
injurious  to  him.  His  appetite  was  gone,  his  strength  failed 
him,  but  his  mind  remained  clear,  and  was  perhaps  too  active 
for  his  frame.  Anxieties  and  disappointments  which  had 

20  previously  sapped  his  constitution,  doubtless  aggravated  his 
present  complaint  and  rendered  him  sleepless.  In  reply 
to  an  inquiry  of  his  physician,  he  acknowledged  that  his 
mind  was  ill  at  ease.  This  was  his  last  reply;  he  was  too 
weak  to  talk,  and  in  general  took  no  notice  of  what  was 

25  said  to  him.  He  sank  at  last  into  a  deep  sleep,  and  it 
was  hoped  a  favorable  crisis  had  arrived.  He  awoke, 
however,  in  strong  convulsions,  which  continued  without 
intermission  until  he  expired,  on  the  fourth  of  April,  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning ;  being  in  the  forty-sixth  year  of 

30  his  age. 

His  death  was  a  shock  to  the  literary  world,  and  a  deep 
affliction  to  a  wide  circle  of  intimates  and  friends ;  for,  with 
all  his  foibles  and  peculiarities,  he  was  fully  as  much  beloved 
as  he  was  admired.  Burke,  on  hearing  the  news,  burst  into 


GRIEF   OF  HIS   FRIENDS  337 

tears.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  threw  by  his  pencil  for  the  day, 
and  grieved  more  than  he  had  done  in  times  of  great  family 
distress.  "  I  was  abroad  at  the  time  of  his  death,"  writes 
Dr.  M'Donnell,  the  youth  whom  when  in  distress  he  had 
employed  as  an  amanuensis,  "  and  I  wept  bitterly  when  the  5 
intelligence  first  reached  me.  A  blank  came  over  my  heart 
as  if  I  had  lost  one  of  my  nearest  relatives,  and  was  followed 
for  some  days  by  a  feeling  of  despondency."  Johnson  felt 
the  blow  deeply  and  gloomily.  In  writing  some  time  after- 
wards to  Bos  well,  he  observed,  "  Of  poor  Dr.  Goldsmith  10 
there  is  little  to  be  told  more  than  the  papers  have  made 
public.  He  died  of  a  fever,  made,  I  am  afraid,  more  vio- 
lent by  uneasiness  of  mind.  His  debts  began  to  be  heavy, 
and  all  his  resources  were  exhausted.  Sir  Joshua  is  of 
opinion  that  he  owed  no  less  than  two  thousand  pounds.  15 
Was  ever  poet  so  trusted  before  ?  " 

Among  his  debts  were  seventy-nine  pounds  due  to  his 
tailor,  Mr.  William  Filby,  from  whom  he  had  received  a 
new  suit  but  a  few  days  befo're  his  death.  "My  father," 
said  the  younger  Filby,  "though  a  loser  to  that  amount,  20 
attributed  no  blame  to  Goldsmith ;  he  had  been  a  good  cus- 
tomer, and,  had  he  lived,  would  have  paid  every  farthing." 
Others  of  his  tradespeople  evinced  the  same  confidence  in 
his  integrity,  notwithstanding  his  heedlessness.  Two  sister 
milliners  in  Temple  Lane,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  deal  25 
with  him,  were  concerned  when  told,  some  time  before  his 
death,  of  his  pecuniary  embarrassments.  "  Oh,  sir,"  said 
they  to  Mr.  Cradock,  "  sooner  persuade  him  to  let  us  work 
for  him  gratis  than  apply  to  any  other  ;  we  are  sure  he  will 
pay  us  when  he  can." 

On  the  stairs  of  his  apartment  there  was  the  lamentation 
of  the  old  and  infirm,  and  the  sobbing  of  women;  poor 
objects  of  his  charity,  to  whom  he  had  never  turned  a  deaf 
ear,  even  when  struggling  himself  with  poverty. 


338  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

But  there  was  one  mourner  whose  enthusiasm  for  his 
memory,  could  it  have  been  foreseen,  might  have  soothed 
the  bitterness  of  death.  After  the  coffin  had  been  screwed 
down,  a  lock  of  his  hair  was  requested  for  a  lady,  a  partic- 
5  ular  friend,  who  wished  to  preserve  it  as  a  remembrance.  It 
was  the  beautiful  Mary  Horneck  —  the  Jessamy  Bride.  The 
coffin  was  opened  again,  and  a  lock  of  hair  cut  off;  which 
she  treasured  to  her  dying  day.  Poor  Goldsmith  !  could  he 
have  foreseen  that  such  a  memorial  of  him  was  to  be  thus 

10  cherished! 

One  word  more  concerning  this  lady,  to  whom  we  have  so 
often  ventured  to  advert.  She  survived  almost  to  the  present 
day.  Hazlitt  met  her  at  Northcote's  painting-room,  about 
twenty  years  since,  as  Mrs.  Gwyn,  the  widow  of  a  General 

15  Gwyn  of  the  army.  She  was  at  that  time  upwards  of  seventy 
years  of  age.  Still,  he  said,  she  was  beautiful,  beautiful  even 
in  years.  After  she  was  gone,  Hazlitt  remarked  how  hand- 
some she  still  was.  "  I  do  not  know,"  said  Northcote,  "  why 
she  is  so  kind  as  to  come  to'  see  me,  except  that  I  am  the 

20  last  link  in  the  chain  that  connects  her  with  all  those  she 
most  esteemed  when  young  —  Johnson,  Reynolds,  Goldsmith 
—  and  remind  her  of  the  most  delightful  period  of  her  life." 
"Not  only  so,"  observed  Hazlitt,  "but  you  remember  what 
she  was  at  twenty;  and  you  thus  bring  back  to  her  the 

25  triumphs  of  her  youth  —  that  pride  of  beauty,  which  must 
be  the  more  fondly  cherished  as  it  has  no  external  vouchers, 
and  lives  chiefly  in  the  bosom  of  its  once  lovely  possessor. 
In  her,  however,  the  Graces  had  triumphed  over  time ;  she 
was  one  of  Ninon  de  1'Enclos's  people,  of  the  last  of  the 

30  immortals.  I  could  almost  fancy  the  shade  of  Goldsmith 
in  the  room,  looking  round  with  complacency." 

The  Jessamy  Bride  survived  her  sister  upwards  of  forty 
years,  and  died  in  1840,  within  a  few  days  of  completing  her 
eighty-eighth  year.  "  She  had  gone  through  all  the  stages  of 


THE  JESSAMY   BRIDE  339 

life,"  says  Northcote,  "  and  had  lent  a  grace  to  each."  How- 
ever gayly  she  may  have  sported  with  the  half-concealed 
admiration  of  the  poor  awkward  poet  in  the  heyday  of  her 
youth  and  beauty,  and  however  much  it  may  have  been  made 
a  subject  of  teasing  by  her  youthful  companions,  she  evi- 
dently prided  herself  in  after-years  upon  having  been  an 
object  of  his  affectionate  regard;  it  certainly  rendered  her 
interesting  throughout  life  in  the  eyes  of  his  admirers,  and 
has  hung  a  poetical  wreath  above  her  grave. 


TOPICS   AND   QUESTIONS 

1.  Why  does  Irving  in  Chapters  XLIII  and  XLIV  emphasize  the 
dreariness  of  Goldsmith's  bachelor  life  ? 

2.  Is  the  first  paragraph  of  this  chapter  unified  ? 

3.  Was  "  the  late  Dr.  Goldsmith  "  a  good  pun  ?    [See  also  question  3, 
Chapter  XL] 

4.  The  last  illness  of  Goldsmith. 

5.  Does  this  chapter  rouse  in  the  reader's  mind  admiration,  pity, 
sympathy,  or  censure  for  Goldsmith  ? 


CHAPTER   XLV 

The  Funeral — The  Monument — The  Epitaph  —  Concluding  Remarks. 

In  the  warm  feeling  of  the  moment,  while  the  remains  of 
the  poet  were  scarce  cold,  it  was  determined  by  his  friends 
to  honor  them  by  a  public  funeral  and  a  tomb  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey.  His  very  pall-bearers  were  designated:  Lord 
5  Shelburne,  Lord  Lowth,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds;  the  Hon. 
Mr.  Beauclerc,  Mr.  Burke,  and  David  Garrick.  This  feeling 
cooled  down,  however,  when  it  was  discovered  that  he  died 
in  debt,  and  had  not  left  wherewithal  to  pay  for  such  expen- 
sive obsequies.  Five  days  after  his  death,  therefore,  at  five 

10  o'clock  of  Saturday  evening,  the  gth  of  April,  he  was  pri- 
vately interred  in  the  burying-ground  of  the  Temple  Church; 
a  few  persons  attending  as  mourners,  among  whom  we  do  not 
find  specified  any  of  his  peculiar  and  distinguished  friends. 
The  chief  mourner  was  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's  nephew,  Palmer, 

15  afterwards  Dean  of  Cashel.  One  person,  however,  from  whom 
it  was  but  little  to  be  expected,  attended  the  funeral  and 
evinced  real  sorrow  on  the  occasion.  This  was  Hugh  Kelly, 
once  the  dramatic  rival  of  the  deceased,  and  often,  it  is  said, 
his  anonymous  assailant  in  the  newspapers.  If  he  had  really 

20  been  guilty  of  this  basest  of  literary  offences,  he  was  punished 
by  the  stings  of  remorse,  for  we  are  told  that  he  shed  bitter 
tears  over  the  grave  of  the  man  he  had  injured.  His  tardy 
atonement  only  provoked  the  lash  of  some  unknown  satirist, 
as  the  following  lines  will  show :  — 

25  "  Hence  Kelly,  who  years,  without  honor  or  shame, 

Had  been  sticking  his  bodkin  in  Oliver's  fame, 
Who  thought,  like  the  Tartar,  by  this  to  inherit 
340 


THE    MALIGNANCY  OF    KENRICK  341 

His  genius,  his  learning,  simplicity,  spirit ; 
Now  sets  every  feature  to  weep  o'er  his  fate, 
And  acts  as  a  mourner  to  blubber  in  state." 

One  base  wretch  deserves  to  be  mentioned,  the  reptile 
Kenrick,  who,  after  having  repeatedly  slandered  Goldsmith,    5 
while  living,  had  the  audacity  to  insult  his  memory  when 
dead.    The  following  distich  is  sufficient  to  show  his  malig- 
nancy, and  to  hold  him  up  to  execration  :  — 

"By  his  own  art,  who  justly  died, 

A  blund'ring,  artless  suicide :  10 

Share,  earthworms,  share,  since  now  he 's  dead, 
His  megrim,  maggot-bitten  head." 

This  scurrilous  epitaph  produced  a  burst  of  public  indig- 
nation, that  awed  for  a  time  even  the  infamous  Kenrick  into 
silence.  On  the  other  hand,  the  press  teemed  with  tributes  15 
in  verse  and  prose  to  the  memory  of  the  deceased;  all  evin- 
cing the  mingled  feeling  of  admiration  for  the  author  and 
affection  for  the  man. 

Not  long  after  his  death  the  Literary  Club  set  on  foot  a 
subscription,  and  raised  a  fund  to  erect  a  monument  to  his  20 
memory,  in  Westminster  Abbey.  It  was  executed  by  Nolle- 
kens,  and  consisted  simply  of  a  bust  of  the  poet  in  profile, 
in  high  relief,  in  a  medallion,  and  was  placed  in  the  area  of  a 
pointed  arch,  over  the  south  door  in  Poets'  Corner,  between 
the  monuments  of  Gay  and  the  Duke  of  Argyle.  Johnson  25 
furnished  a  Latin  epitaph,  which  was  read  at  the  table  of 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  where  several  members  of  the  club 
and  other  friends  of  the  deceased  were  present.  Though 
considered  by  them  a  masterly  composition,  they  thought  the 
literary  character  of  the  poet  not  defined  with  sufficient  exact-  30 
ness,  and  they  preferred  that  the  epitaph  should  be  in  English 
rather  than  Latin,  as  "the  memory  of  so  eminent  an  English 
writer  ought  to  be  perpetuated  in  the  language  to  which  his 
works  were  likely  to  be  so  lasting  an  ornament." 


342  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

These  objections  were  reduced  to  writing,  to  be  respect- 
fully submitted  to  Johnson,  but  such  was  the  awe  entertained 
of  his  frown,  that  every  one  shrank  from  putting  his  name 
first  to  the  instrument ;  whereupon  their  names  were  written 
5  about  it  in  a  circle,  making  what  mutinous  sailors  call  a 
Round  Robin.  Johnson  received  it  half  graciously,  half 
grimly.  "  He  was  willing,"  he  said,  "  to  modify  the  sense 
of  the  epitaph  in  any  manner  the  gentlemen  pleased ;  but  he 
never  would  consent  to  disgrace  the  walls  of  Westminster 

10  Abbey  with  an  English  inscription."  Seeing  the  names  of 
Dr.  Warton  and  Edmund  Burke  among  the  signers,  "  he 
wondered,"  he  said,  "  that  Joe  Warton,  a  scholar  by  pro- 
fession, should  be  such  a  fool ;  and  should  have  thought 
that  Mund  Burke  would  have  had  more  sense."  The  fol- 

15  lowing  is  the  epitaph  as  it  stands  inscribed  on  a  white 
marble  tablet  beneath  the  bust:  — 

"OLIVARII   GOLDSMITH,1 

Poetae,  Physici,  Historici, 
Qui  nullum  fere  scribendi  genus 
20  Non  tetigit, 

Nullum  quod  tetigit  non  ornavit: 
Sive  risus  essent  movendi, 

Sive  lacrymae, 

Affect  uum  potens  at  lenis  dominator: 
25  Ingenio  sublimis,  vividus,  versatilis, 


1  The  following  translation  is  from  Croker's  edition  of  Boswell's  "Johnson  " :  — 

"OF  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH  — 

A  Poet,  Naturalist,  and  Historian, 
Who  left  scarcely  any  style  of  writing 

Untouched, 
And  touched  nothing  that  he  did  not  adorn; 

Of  all  the  passions, 
Whether  smiles  were  to  be  moved 

Or  tears, 

A  powerful  yet  gentle  master  ; 
In  genius,  sublime,  vivid,  versatile, 


THE   EPITAPH  343 

Oratione  grandis,  nitidus,  venustus : 
Hoc  monumento  memoriam  coluit 
Sodalium  amor, 
Amicorum  fides, 

Lectorum  veneratio.  c 

Natus  in  Hibernia  Forniae  Longfordiensis, 

In  loco  cui  nomen  Pallas, 

Nov.  xxix.  MDCCXXXI.; 

Eblanx  literis  institutus ; 

Obiit  Londini,  IO 

April  iv.  MoccLxxrv." l 

We  shall  not  pretend  to  follow  these  anecdotes  of  the  life 
of  Goldsmith  with  any  critical  dissertation  on  his  writings ; 
their  merits  have  long  since  been  fully  discussed,  and  their 
station  in  the  scale  of  literary  merit  permanently  established.  15 
They  have  outlasted  generations  of  works  of  higher  power 
and  wider  scope,  and  will  continue  to  outlast  succeeding 
generations,  for  they  have  that  magic  charm  of  style  by 
which  works  are  embalmed  to  perpetuity.  Neither  shall  we 
attempt  a  regular  analysis  of  the  character  of  the  poet,  but  20 
will  indulge  in  a  few  desultory  remarks  in  addition  to  those 
scattered  throughout  the  preceding  chapters. 

Never  was  the  trite,  because  sage  apophthegm,  that  "The 
child  is  father  to  the  man,"  more  fully  verified  than  in  the 
case  of  Goldsmith.  He  is  shy,  awkward,  and  blundering  in  25 


In  style,  elevated,  clear,  elegant  — 

The  love  of  companions, 

The  fidelity  of  friends, 

And  the  veneration  of  readers, 

Have  by  this  monument  honored  the  memory. 

He  was  born  in  Ireland, 

At  a  place  called  Pallas, 

[In  the  parish]  of  Forney,  [and  county]  of  Longford, 

On  the  zgth  Nov.,  1731, 

Educated  at  [the  University  of]  Dublin, 

And  died  in  London, 

4th  April,  1774." 

Not  correct.     The  true  date  of  birth  was  loth  Nov.  1728,  as  given  on  p.  6. 


344  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

childhood,  yet  full  of  sensibility ;  he  is  a  butt  for  the  jeers 
and  jokes  of  his  companions,  but  apt  to  surprise  and  con- 
found them  by  sudden  and  witty  repartees ;  he  is  dull  and 
stupid  at  his  tasks,  yet  an  eager  and  intelligent  devourer  of 

5  the  travelling  tales  and  campaigning  stories  of  his  half 
military  pedagogue ;  he  may  be  a  dunce,  but  he  is  already  a 
rhymer ;  and  his  early  scintillations  of  poetry  awaken  the 
expectations  of  his  friends.  He  seems  from  infancy  to  have 
been  compounded  of  two  natures,  one  bright,  the  other 

10  blundering;  or  to  have  had  fairy  gifts  laid  in  his  cradle  by 
the  "good  people"  who  haunted  his  birthplace,  the  old 
goblin  mansion  on  the  banks  of  the  Inny. 

He  carries  with  him  the  wayward  elfin  spirit,  if  we  may 
so  term  it,  throughout  his  career.     His  fairy  gifts  are  of  no 

15  avail  at  school,  academy,  or  college  :  they  unfit  him  for 
close  study  and  practical  science,  and  render  him  heedless 
of  everything  that  does  not  address  itself  to  his  poetical 
imagination  and  genial  and  festive  feelings ;  they  dispose 
him  to  break  away  from  restraint,  to  stroll  about  hedges, 

20  green  lanes,  and  haunted  streams,  to  revel  with  jovial  com- 
panions, or  to  rove  the  country  like  a  gypsy  in  quest  of  odd 
adventures. 

As  if  confiding  in  these  delusive  gifts,  he  takes  no  heed 
of  the  present  nor  care  for  the  future,  lays  no  regular  and 

25  solid  foundation  of  knowledge,  follows  out  no  plan,  adopts 
and  discards  those  recommended  by  his  friends,  at  one  time 
prepares  for  the  ministry,  next  turns  to  the  law,  and  then 
fixes  upon  medicine.  He  repairs  to  Edinburgh,  the  great 
emporium  of  medical  science,  but  the  fairy  gifts  accompany 

30  him ;  he  idles  and  frolics  away  his  time  there,  imbibing  only 
such  knowledge  as  is  agreeable  to  him ;  makes  an  excursion 
to  the  poetical  regions  of  the  Highlands  ;  and  having  walked 
the  hospitals  for  the  customary  time,  sets  off  to  ramble  over 
the  Continent,  in  quest  of  novelty  rather  than  knowledge. 


CONCLUDING    REMARKS  345 

His  whole  tour  is  a  poetical  one.  He  fancies  he  is  playing 
the  philosopher  while  he  is  really  playing  the  poet;  and 
though  professedly  he  attends  lectures  and  visits  foreign 
universities,  so  deficient  is  he  on  his  return,  in  the  studies 
for  which  he  set  out,  that  he  fails  in  an  examination  as  a  5 
surgeon's  mate ;  and  while  figuring  as  a  doctor  of  medicine, 
is  outvied  on  a  point  of  practice  by  his  apothecary.  Baffled 
in  every  regular  pursuit,  after  trying  in  vain  some  of  the 
humbler  callings  of  commonplace  life,  he  is  driven  almost 
by  chance  to  the  exercise  of  his  pen,  and  here  the  fairy  10 
gifts  come  to  his  assistance.  For  a  long  time,  however,  he 
seems  unaware  of  the  magic  properties  of  that  pen :  he  uses 
it  only  as  a  makeshift  until  he  can  find  a  legitimate  means 
of  support.  He  is  not  a  learned  man,  and  can  write  but 
meagrely  and  at  second-hand  on  learned  subjects;  but  he  15 
has  a  quick  convertible  talent  that  seizes  lightly  on  the 
points  of  knowledge  necessary  to  the  illustration  of  a  theme: 
his  writings  for  a  time  are  desultory,  the  fruits  of  what  he 
has  seen  and  felt,  or  what  he  has  recently  and  hastily  read  ; 
but  his  gifted  pen  transmutes  everything  into  gold,  and  his  20 
own  genial  nature  reflects  its  sunshine  through  his  pages. 

Still  unaware  of  his  powers  he  throws  off  his  writings 
anonymously,  to  go  with  the  writings  of  less  favored  men; 
and  it  is  a  long  time,  and  after  a  bitter  struggle  with  poverty 
and  humiliation,  before  he  acquires  confidence  in  his  liter-  25 
ary  talent  as  a  means  of  support,  and  begins  to  dream  of 
reputation. 

From  this  time  his  pen  is  a  wand  of  power  in  his  hand, 
and  he  has  only  to  use  it  discreetly,  to  make  it  competent 
to  all  his  wants.  But  discretion  is  not  a  part  of  Goldsmith's  30 
nature ;  and  it  seems  the  property  of  these  fairy  gifts  to  be 
accompanied  by  moods  and  temperaments  to  render  their 
effect  precarious.  The  heedlessness  of  his  early  days;  his 
disposition  for  social  enjoyment ;  his  habit  of  throwing  the 


346  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

present  on  the  neck  of  the  future,  still  continue.  His 
expenses  forerun  his  means;  he  incurs  debts  on  the  faith 
of  what  his  magic  pen  is  to  produce,  and  then,  under  the 
pressure  of  his  debts,  sacrifices  its  productions  for  prices 
5  far  below  their  value.  It  is  a  redeeming  circumstance  in 
his  prodigality  that  it  is  lavished  oftener  upon  others  than 
upon  himself:  he  gives  without  thought  or  stint,  and  is  the 
continual  dupe  of  his  benevolence  and  his  trustfulness  in 
human  nature.  We  may  say  of  him  as  he  says  of  one  of 

10  his  heroes,  "  He  could  not  stifle  the  natural  impulse  which 
he  had  to  do  good,  but  frequently  borrowed  money  to  relieve 
the  distressed;  and  when  he  knew  not  conveniently  where 
to  borrow,  he  has  been  observed  to  shed  tears  as  he  passed 
through  the  wretched  suppliants  who  attend  his  gate."  .  .  . 

15  "His  simplicity  in  trusting  persons  whom  he  had  no 
previous  reasons  to  place  confidence  in,  seems  to  be  one 
of  those  lights  of  his  character  which,  while  they  impeach 
his  understanding,  do  honor  to  his  benevolence.  The  low 
and  the  timid  are  ever  suspicious ;  but  a  heart  impressed 

20  with  honorable  sentiments,  expects  from  others  sympathetic 
sincerity."1 

His  heedlessness  in  pecuniary  matters,  which  had  ren- 
dered his  life  a  struggle  with  poverty  even  in  the  days  of 
his  obscurity,  rendered  the  struggle  still  more  intense  when 

25  his  fairy  gifts  had  elevated  him  into  the  society  of  the  wealthy 

and  luxurious,  and  imposed  on  his  simple  and  generous  spirit 

fancied  obligations  to  a  more  ample  and  bounteous  display. 

"  How  comes  it,"  says  a  recent  and  ingenious  critic,  "  that 

in  all  the  miry  paths  of  life  which  he  had  trod,  no  speck  ever 

30  sullied  the  robe  of  his  modest  and  graceful  Muse.  How 
amidst  all  that  love  of  inferior  company,  which  never  to  the 
last  forsook  him,  did  he  keep  his  genius  so  free  from  every 
touch  of  vulgarity?  " 

1  Goldsmith's  Life  of  Nash. 


CONCLUDING   REMARKS  347 

We  answer  that  it  was  owing  to  the  innate  purity  and 
goodness  of  his  nature;  there  was  nothing  in  it  that  assimi- 
lated to  vice  and  vulgarity.  Though  his  circumstances 
often  compelled  him  to  associate  with  the  poor,  they  never 
could  betray  him  into  companionship  with  the  depraved.  5 
His  relish  for  humor  and  for  the  study  of  character,  as  we 
have  before  observed,  brought  him  often  into  convivial  com- 
pany of  a  vulgar  kind ;  but  he  discriminated  between  their 
vulgarity  and  their  amusing  qualities,  or  rather  wrought  from 
the  whole  those  familiar  pictures  of  life  which  form  the  10 
staple  of  his  most  popular  writings. 

Much,  too,  of  this  intact  purity  of  heart  may  be  ascribed 
to  the  lessons  of  his  infancy  under  the  paternal  roof ;  to  the 
gentle,  benevolent,  elevated,  unworldly  maxims  of  his  father, 
who  "  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year,"  infused  a  spirit  15 
into  his  child  which  riches  could  not  deprave  nor  poverty 
degrade.  Much  of  his  boyhood,  too,  had  been  passed  in 
the  household  of  his  uncle,  the  amiable  and  generous  Con- 
tarine;  where  he  talked  of  literature  with  the  good  pastor, 
and  practised  music  with  his  daughter,  and  delighted  them  20 
both  by  his  juvenile  attempts  at  poetry.  These  early  asso- 
ciations breathed  a  grace  and  refinement  into  his  mind  and 
tuned  it  up,  after  the  rough  sports  on  the  green,  or  the 
frolics  at  the  tavern.  These  led  him  to  turn  from  the  roar- 
ing glees  of  the  club,  to  listen  to  the  harp  of  his  cousin  25 
Jane ;  and  from  the  rustic  triumph  of  "  throwing  sledge,"  to 
a  stroll  with  his  flute  along  the  pastoral  banks  of  the  Inny. 

The  gentle  spirit  of  his  father  walked  with  him  through 
life,  a  pure  and  virtuous  monitor ;  and  in  all  the  vicissitudes 
of  his  career  we  find  him  ever  more  chastened  in  mind  by  30 
the  sweet  and  holy  recollections  of  the  home  of  his  infancy. 

It  has  been  questioned  whether  he  really  had  any  reli- 
gious feeling.  Those  who  raise  the  question  have  never  con- 
sidered well  his  writings  ;  his  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  and  his 


348  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

pictures  of  the  Village  Pastor,  present  religion  under  its 
most  endearing  forms,  and  with  a  feeling  that  could  only 
flow  from  the  deep  convictions  of  the  heart.  When  his  fair 
travelling  companions  at  Paris  urged  him  to  read  the  Church 
5  Service  on  a  Sunday,  he  replied  that  "  he  was  not  worthy  to 
do  it."  He  had  seen  in  early  life  the  sacred  offices  performed 
by  his  father  and  his  brother  with  a  solemnity  which  had 
sanctified  them  in  his  memory;  how  could  he  presume  to 
undertake  such  functions?  His  religion  has  been  called  in 

10  question  by  Johnson  and  by  Boswell:  he  certainly  had  not 
the  gloomy  hypochondriacal  piety  of  the  one,  nor  the  bab- 
bling mouth-piety  of  the  other;  but  the  spirit  of  Christian 
charity,  breathed  forth  in  his  writings  and  illustrated  in  his 
conduct,  give  us  reason  to  believe  he  had  the  indwelling 

15  religion  of  the  soul. 

We  have  made  sufficient  comments  in  the  preceding  chap- 
ters on  his  conduct  in  elevated  circles  of  literature  and 
fashion.  The  fairy  gifts  which  took  him  there  were  not 
accompanied  by  the  gifts  and  graces  necessary  to  sustain  him 

20  in  that  artificial  sphere.  He  can  neither  play  the  learned 
sage  with  Johnson,  nor  the  fine  gentleman  with  Beauclerc ; 
though  he  has  a  mind  replete  with  wisdom  and  natural 
shrewdness,  and  a  spirit  free  from  vulgarity.  The  blunders 
of  a  fertile  but  hurried  intellect,  and  the  awkward  display 

25  of  the  student  assuming  the  man  of  fashion,  fix  on  him  a 
character  for  absurdity  and  vanity  which,  like  the  charge  of 
lunacy,  it  is  hard  to  disprove,  however  weak  the  grounds  of 
the  charge  and  strong  the  facts  in  opposition  to  it. 

In  truth,  he  is  never  truly  in  his  place  in  these  learned 

30  and  fashionable  circles,  which  talk  and  live  for  display.  It 
is  not  the  kind  of  society  he  craves.  His  heart  yearns  for 
domestic  life  ;  it  craves  familiar,  confiding  intercourse>  family 
firesides,  the  guileless  and  happy  company  of  children  ;  these 
bring  out  the  heartiest  and  sweetest  sympathies  of  his  nature. 


CONCLUDING    REMARKS 


349 


"  Had  it  been  his  fate,"  says  the  critic  we  have  already 
quoted,  "  to  meet  a  woman  who  could  have  loved  him,  despite 
his  faults,  and  respected  him  despite  his  foibles,  we  cannot 
but  think  that  his  life  and  his  genius  would  have  been  much 
more  harmonious  ;  his  desultory  affections  would  have  been  5 
concentrated,  his  craving  self-love  appeased,  his  pursuits  more 
settled,  his  character  more  solid.  A  nature  like  Goldsmith's, 
so  affectionate,  so  confiding  —  so  susceptible  to  simple,  inno- 
cent enjoyments  —  so  dependent  on  others  for  the  sunshine 
of  existence,  does  not  flower  if  deprived  of  the  atmosphere  10 
of  home." 

The  cravings  of  his  heart  in  this  respect  are  evident,  we 
think,  throughout  his  career ;  and  if  we  have  dwelt  with 
more  significancy  than  others  upon  his  intercourse  with  the 
beautiful  Horneck  family,  it  is  because  we  fancied  we  could  15 
detect,  amid  his  playful  attentions  to  one  of  its  members,  a 
lurking  sentiment  of  tenderness,  kept  down  by  conscious 
poverty  and  a  humiliating  idea  of  personal  defects.  A 
hopeless  feeling  of  this  kind  —  the  last  a  man  would  com- 
municate to  his  friends  —  might  account  for  much  of  that  fit-  20 
fulness  of  conduct,  and  that  gathering  melancholy,  remarked, 
but  not  comprehended  by  his  associates,  during  the  last  year 
or  two  of  his  life  ;  and  may  have  been  one  of  the  troubles  of 
the  mind  which  aggravated  his  last  illness,  and  only  termi- 
nated with  his  death.  25 

We  shall  conclude  these  desultory  remarks  with  a  few 
which  have  been  used  by  us  on  a  former  occasion.  From 
the  general  tone  of  Goldsmith's  biography,  it  is  evident  that 
his  faults,  at  the  worst,  were  but  negative,  while  his  merits 
were  great  and  decided.  He  was  no  one's  enemy  but  his  30 
own  ;  his  errors,  in  the  main,  inflicted  evil  on  none  but  him- 
self, and  were  so  blended  with  humorous  and  even  affecting 
circumstances,  as  to  disarm  anger  and  conciliate  kindness. 
Where  eminent  talent  is  united  to  spotless  virtue,  we  are 


350  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

awed  and  dazzled  into  admiration,  but  our  admiration  is  apt 
to  be  cold  and  reverential ;  while  there  is  something  in  the 
harmless  infirmities  of  a  good  and  great,  but  erring  indi- 
vidual, that  pleads  touchingly  to  our  nature ;  and  we  turn 
5  more  kindly  towards  the  object  of  our  idolatry,  when  we 
find  that,  like  ourselves,  he  is  mortal  and  is  frail.  The 
epithet  so  often  heard,  and  in  such  kindly  tones,  of  "  poor 
Goldsmith,"  speaks  volumes.  Few,  who  consider  the  real 
compound  of  admirable  and  whimsical  qualities  which  form 

10  his  character,  would  wish  to  prune  away  its  eccentricities, 
trim  its  grotesque  luxuriance,  and  clip  it  down  to  the  decent 
formalities  of  rigid  virtue.  "  Let  not  his  frailties  be  remem- 
bered," said  Johnson ;  "  he  was  a  very  great  man."  But, 
for  our  part,  we  rather  say,  "  Let  them  be  remembered," 

15  since  their  tendency  is  to  endear;  and  we  question  whether 
he  himself  would  not  feel  gratified  in  hearing  his  reader, 
after  dwelling  with  admiration  on  the  proofs  of  his  great- 
ness, close  the  volume  with  the  kind-hearted  phrase,  so 
fondly  and  familiarly  ejaculated,  of  "  POOR  GOLDSMITH." 


TOPICS   AND  QUESTIONS 

1.  Is  Irving's  attitude  to  Kenrick  justifiable  ? 

2.  The  incident  of  the  Round  Robin.     Where  in  recent  American 
history  has  the  Round  Robin  been  used  ? 

3.  Anecdotes  of  the  life  of  Goldsmith.     Is  Irving's  biography  any- 
thing more  than  a  series  of  anecdotes  ? 

4.  What  drove  Goldsmith  to  the  use  of  his  pen  ? 

5.  Analysis  of  Goldsmith's  character. 

6.  Goldsmith's  fairy  gifts. 

7.  The  epitaph  by  Johnson.     Would  it  better  have  been  written  in 
English  ? 


GENERAL  TOPICS 

1.  How  does  a  biography  such  as  Irving's  "  Oliver  Goldsmith"  or 
BoswelFs  "Life  of  Johnson"  differ  in  scope  and  in  method  of  treatment 
from  an  essay  such  as  Macaulay's  on  Goldsmith  or  Carlyle's  on  Burns  ? 

2.  Is  there  anything  in  Goldsmith's  own  life  that  corresponds  with 
the  chapter  in  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  on  the  vicar's  experiences  in 
prison  ? 

3.  What  were   some  of  the  clubs   to  which   Goldsmith   belonged 
during  his  life?     Why  had  he  a  fondness  for  clubs?     Where  did  these 
associations  meet  ? 

4.  Goldsmith's  experiences  as  a  teacher.     From  your  point  of  view 
as  a  student,  does  teaching  seem  an  easy  occupation  ? 

5.  Enumerate  Goldsmith's  different  dwelling  places  in  London,  and 
give  incidents  connected  with  his  residence  at  each. 

6.  Prepare  a  five-minute  talk  on   clubs  and   coffee-houses  of  the 
eighteenth  century  in  London.     \Hint.  —  After  you  have  brought  your 
material  together  it  would  be  well  to  prepare  a  little  outline  containing 
the  main  divisions  of  your  talk,  as  a  help  in  case  you  should  become 
embarrassed  and  forget  what  comes  next.] 

7.  Periodical  publications  of  the  eighteenth  century.     [Let  Chapter 
XVII  be  the  starting  point  for  working  up  this  subject.] 

8.  Goldsmith's  relations  with  his  publisher,  Newbery. 

9.  Make  a  collection  from  Irving's  biography  of  the  best  ten  anec- 
dotes about  Goldsmith. 

10.  Give  a  detailed  account,  made  up  from  references  here  and  there 
in  the  biography,  of  the  influence  of  the  Jessamy  Bride  on  Goldsmith. 
[First  prepare  careful  outline.] 

11.  Goldsmith  as  a  talker. 

12.  What  instances  of  repetition  of  thought  are  to  be  found  in 
Irving's  "  Oliver  Goldsmith  "  ? 

13.  Comment    on    the    rhetorical    quality  proportion    as    seen    in 
Irving's  "  Oliver  Goldsmith."     (a)  How  much  space  relatively  is  given 

35' 


352  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

to  the  years  1728-1758,  1758-1768,  1768-1773,  1774?  (6)  Compare 
the  amount  of  space  devoted  to  the  years  from  one  to  thirty,  with  the 
number  of  pages  treating  of  the  life  from  thirty  to  forty. 

14.  Write  a  biography  of  Goldsmith,  grouping  your  material  in  four 
or  five  paragraphs,  each  of  a  page  or  two  in  length,  and  preserving,  as 
far  as  possible,  the  proportionate  scale  of  treatment  adopted  by  Irving. 
Then  reduce  your  four  or  five  paragraphs  to  a  single  paragraph  of  exactly 
one  hundred  words.     Observe  closely  the  nature  of  the  matter  that  you 
find  must  be  cut  out. 

15.  Explain  what  Goldsmith  did  for  the  drama. 

16.  The  profession  of  the  playwright  in  the  eighteenth  century. 

17.  Influence  of  Goldsmith  on  succeeding  novelists. 

18.  Mention  three  novelists  of  the  eighteenth  century  and  tell  some- 
thing of  the  nature  of  the  work  of  each. 

19.  Early  English  dictionaries. 

20.  The   difficulties   and   pleasures   of   travel   during   the   time   of 
Goldsmith. 

21.  Characteristics  of  the  form  of  literature  called    the    essay  as 
written  about  1750. 

22.  Life  at  Dublin  or  Oxford  or  Cambridge  University  a  hundred 
and  fifty  years  ago.     Were  there  any  colleges  in  America  at  this  time  ? 

23.  The  life  and  work  of  an  eighteenth-century  curate  as  presented 
in  Goldsmith's  works. 

24.  Find  in  this  volume  and  elsewhere  details  about  the  life  and 
personality  of  the  following  men,  and  prepare  a  ten-minute  talk  on 
Goldsmith's   friends   and   acquaintances  during  the  last   ten  years  of 
his  life :   Samuel  Johnson,  Joshua  Reynolds,  Edmund  Burke,  Bennet 
Langton,  Topham  Beauclerc,  David  Garrick,  Sir  John  Hawkins,  James 
Boswell,  Charles  Fox,  Thomas  Percy,  Hugh  Percy  (Duke  of  North- 
umberland),   John    and    Francis    Newbery,    George    Colman,    William 
Hogarth,  George  III,  William  Blackstone,  Augustus  Toplady,  Samuel 
Foote,  Joseph  Cradock,  and  Joseph  Warton. 

25.  Divide  the  material  of  the  biography  into  eight  or  ten  chapters 
instead  of  forty-five,  giving  an  appropriate  title  for  each  of  your  pro- 
posed chapters.      [Consider  the  advisability  of  making  time  and  place 
the  basis  for  the  division.     Notice,  for  example,  the  titles  of  some  of 


GENERAL    TOPICS  353 

Charles  Dudley  Warner's  chapters  in  his  "Life  of  Irving":  "Boyhood," 
"  Manhood,"  "  In  Spain,"  "  Return  to  America,"  etc.] 

26.  Locate  on  map  in  article  on  London  in  Johnson's  "  Universal 
Cyclopaedia":    Islington,  Covent  Garden,  Temple,  Temple  Bar,  New- 
gate, Holborn,  and  Ludgate  Hill.     Are  there  detailed  maps  of  London 
in  any  other  reference  books  to  which  you  have  access  ? 

27.  Run  through  the  Notes  and  select  those  which  point  out  indi- 
cations of   hasty,   slipshod  writing   by  Irving.      Jot  down  any  other 
indications  of  this  sort  that  are  to  be  found  in  the  biography.     What 
good  features  of  Irving's  style  more  than  counterbalance  occasional 
inaccuracies  in  sentence  structure  and  in  use  of  words  ? 

28.  Name  the  works  of  Goldsmith  from  which  Irving  has  made  quo- 
tations in  his  biography. 

29.  Make  an  outline  of  Goldsmith's  life  as  teacher,  as  medical  man, 
and  as  writer. 

30.  Complete  the  following  geographical  outline  of  Doctor  Gold- 
smith's life,  with  appropriate  divisions  and  subdivisions. 

A.  Ireland. 

a.  Born  at  Pallas,  1728. 

b.  Scene  of  his  boyhood. 

1.  Farm  near  Lissoy. 

2.  Description  of  household. 

c.  Education. 

1.  Mistress  Elizabeth  Delap. 

2.  Paddy  Byrne. 

3.  Rev.  Mr.  Griffin,  etc. 

B.  Scotland. 

C.  The  Continent. 

D.  England. 


NOTES 

The  Notes  include  comments  on  the  diction  of  Irving,  with  an  eye 
to  stimulating  the  pupil  to  more  work  of  this  sort  for  himself.  The 
study  of  vocabulary  is  unending,  and  should  be  continued  throughout 
the  school  course  till  the  habit  of  weighing  the  value  of  words  has 
become  second  nature.  In  the  notes  on  proper  names,  more  attention 
has  been  paid  to  names  of  persons,  places,  and  books  that  could  not 
be  found  in  the  reference  volumes  of  a  small  school  library  than  to 
words  which  can  readily  be  looked  up  in  an  encyclopedia  or  a  diction- 
ary of  names.  Biographical  details,  for  instance,  regarding  men  like 
Burke,  Johnson,  Gibbon,  Sterne,  Addison,  and  other  famous  English 
writers,  are  omitted  because  the  student  can  find  abundance  of  such 
material  in  any  history  of  English  literature.  It  is  not  the  aim  of  the 
present  edition  to  do  the  pupil's  work  for  him.  Information  is  given, 
however,  where  needed. 

PAGE  4  the  beautiful  apostrophe.  In  Life  and  Letters  of  Irving, 
by  P.  M.  Irving,  Vol.  Ill,  page  160,  will  be  found  the  following  trans- 
lation of  the  apostrophe : 

"  Thou  art  my  master,  and  my  teacher  thou ; 
It  was  from  thee  and  thee  alone,  I  took 
That  noble  style  for  which  men  honor  me." 

Because  of  this  tribute  of  admiration  a  reviewer,  at  the  time  of  the 
first  publication  of  Irving's  Oliver  Goldsmith :  A  Biography,  called 
Irving  a  self-acknowledged  imitator  of  Goldsmith.  Irving  in  comment- 
ing on  this  review  said  to  his  nephew  Pierre  that  he  was  never  con- 
scious of  an  attempt  to  write  after  any  model;  he  believed  his  style 
to  be  as  much  his  own  as  if  Goldsmith  had  never  written  anything. 

731.  the  original  of  his  "Auburn."  See  the  discussion  of  this  point 
in  the  note  which  Irving  appends  to  Chapter  XXVIII. 

10  3.  hornbook.  Good  specimens  of  hornbooks  are  rare.  Occasion- 
ally a  collection  of  facsimiles  of  these  early  children's  primers  is  on 
exhibition  at  one  of  the  New  York  publishing  houses.  Why  the  horn- 
book is  so  called  may  be  learned  from  the  dictionary. 

10  15.  wars  of  Queen  Anne's  time.  For  the  name  Queen  Anne,  see 
an  encyclopedia  or  an  English  history,  or  else  question  your  history 
teacher.  Similarly  look  up  in  an  encyclopedia  other  proper  names  in 

355 


356  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

the  biography,  such  as  ^Esop,  in  this  chapter,  if  you  feel  that  you  can 
understand  Irving's  idea  better  by  knowing  to  what  the  proper  name 
refers. 

11 3.  gauge.  This  term  is  of  especial  interest  in  connection  with  the 
life  of  a  British  poet  whose  troubles  were  even  more  pressing  than 
those  of  Goldsmith,  i.e.  Robert  Burns.  For  instance,  observe  the  use 
of  the  word  in  the  following  sentence  from  Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns : 
"  And  this  was  he  for  whom  the  world  found  no  fitter  business  than 
quarreling  with  smugglers  and  vintners,  computing  excise  dues  upon 
tallow,  and  gauging  ale  barrels."  The  note  at  the  bottom  of  page  72 
of  Ginn  &  Company's  edition  of  Carlyle's  Burns  contains  a  clear  expla- 
nation of  the  meaning  of  "  gauge."  If  once  understood  in  this  connec- 
tion, the  word  will  hereafter  have  literary  associations  for  you,  and 
will  seem  more  than  a  mere  dictionary  word. 

13  17.  living.  A  term  used  in  the  Church  of  England  either  with 
reference  to  the  office  of  a  person  who  received  certain  church  revenues 
in  return  for  performing  various  duties,  or  with  reference  to  the  revenue 
itself.  When  a  living  was  in  the  gift  of  the  king  it  was  called  a  "crown- 
living"  (Murray's  New  English  Dictionary). 

1828.  entered  Trinity  College.  Black,  in  his  Goldsmith,  page  n, 
records  that  though  Oliver  managed  somehow  or  other  to  pass  the 
necessary  examination  he  was  the  last  in  the  list. 

1831.  sizer.  Sometimes  spelled  sizar.  In  the  fifth  paragraph  of 
the  life  of  Goldsmith  by  Macaulay,  first  printed  in  the  Encyclopedia 
Britannica  in  1856,  will  be  found  the  following  additional  explanation 
of  "sizar":  "The  sizars  paid  nothing  for  food  and  tuition,  and  very 
little  for  lodging ;  but  they  had  to  perform  some  menial  services  from 
which  they  have  long  been  relieved.  They  swept  the  court ;  they  car- 
ried up  the  dinner  to  the  fellows'  table,  and  changed  the  plates  and 
poured  out  the  ale  of  the  rulers  of  the  society." 

20 14.  exact  sciences.  Name  three  exact  sciences.  Why  should 
mathematics  be  called  an  exact  science  in  contrast  with  biology  ?  Con- 
sult your  teachers  of  those  subjects. 

22 17.  gownsman.  Though  the  students  of  American  universities 
customarily  wear  gowns  only  in  the  senior  year  or  at  Commencement 
time,  the  distinction  between  town  and  gown  is  still  maintained.  At 
one  of  the  universities  of  New  York,  for  example,  there  is  a  flourishing 
Town  and  Gown  Club. 

25  16.  27th  of  February,  1749,  0.  S.  The  abbreviation  O.  S.  stands  for 
Old  Style.  When  the  Julian  calendar  was  replaced  by  the  Gregorian 
in  England  by  Act  of  Parliament  which  went  into  effect  in  1752,  eleven 


NOTES 


357 


days  had  to  be  omitted,  so  that  the  third  day  of  September,  1752,  for 
instance,  was  called  the  fourteenth.  The  27th  of  February,  1749,  Old 
Style,  would  thus  be  equivalent  to  the  loth  of  March,  New  Style.  It 
is  this  change  of  calendars  which  causes  the  frequent  puzzling  differ- 
ence in  dates  of  English  history  for  events  between  the  years  1582, 
when  the  New  Style  was  inaugurated  by  Pope  Gregory  XIII,  and 
1751,  when  England  adopted  the  New  Style.  Why  the  eleven  days 
had  to  be  omitted  is  explained  in  Newcomb  and  Holden's  Astronomy, 
page  254. 

33  7.   ship  bound  for  America.     Robert  Burns  also  planned  escape 
from  the  troubles  of  life  by  a  voyage  to  America.     See,  for  instance, 
Carlyle's  striking  sentence  about  Burns  after  he  had  lost  his  "  character 
for  sobriety  ":  "  He  sees  no  escape  but  the  saddest  of  all :  exile  from 
his  loved  country  to  a  country  in  every  sense  inhospitable  and  abhorrent 
to  him."     Coleridge  and  Southey  were  two  other  English  poets  who 
planned  to  emigrate  to  America. 

34  12.   Cerberus.     The  three-headed  dog  which  in  Greek  mythology 
guarded  the  entrance  to  the  Lower  World. 

38  6.  the  Temple.  Compare  the  phrase  in  the  second  paragraph  of 
Chapter  XXIX,  "  a  student  in  the  Temple,"  and  the  reference  to  Gold- 
smith's window  in  the  Temple,  Chapter  XXVI.  The  Temple  was  in 
two  parts,  the  Inner  Temple  and  the  Middle  Temple.  These  groups 
of  buildings  belonged  originally  to  the  Knights  Templars,  but  in  the 
course  of  time  came  to  be  occupied,  with  the  king's  sanction,  by 
lawyers,  who  formed  themselves  into  societies  of  the  inns  of  court; 
the  name  Temple  remained.  "  These  societies  are  no  Corporations, 
nor  have  any  judicial  power  over  their  Members,  but  have  certain 
Orders  among  themselves,  which,  by  Consent,  have  the  Force  of  Laws. 
For  slight  Offences,  they  are  only  excommoned,  that  is,  put  out  of  Com- 
mons ;  which  is,  not  to  eat  with  the  rest  in  their  Halls.  And  for  greater, 
they  lose  their  Chambers,  and  are  expelled  the  House."  (Page  135, 
Vol.  I,  The  History  and  Survey  of  the  Cities  of  London  and  Westminster, 
Borough  of  Southwark  and  Parts  Adjacent,  published  in  London,  1774.) 
Many  quaint  details  of  much  interest  are  to  be  found  in  this  old  history. 
One  of  the  treasures  is  a  fascinating  big  yellow-stained  map  of  the 
London  of  1733. 

The  region  of  the  Temple  was  not  confined  to  lawyers  and  law 
students.  On  the  second  floor  of  No.  2,  Brick  Court,  in  the  Middle 
Temple  district,  Goldsmith  died.  He  had  furnished  the  rooms  lavishly 
with  .£400  obtained  for  The  Good-natured  Man.  Near  a  paved  walk 
that  leads  along  the  north  side  of  the  Round  Church  of  the  Temple  to 


358  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

the  Master's  House,  is  the  simple  monument  inscribed,  "  Here  lies 
Oliver  Goldsmith."  (Compare  Chapter  XLV,  first  paragraph.) 

4034.  brandered  chop.  A  chop  broiled  on  a  brander  or  gridiron. 
The  Scotch  and  North  of  England  word  "  brander  "  is  shortened  from 
Middle  English  brandire,  meaning  "  brand-iron."  What  common  Eng- 
lish words  are  of  the  same  origin  as  "brandered  " ?  In  English  Etymol- 
ogy, Kluge  and  Lutz  omit  "  brander." 

426.  the  question  of  ghosts.  In  1762  the  story  of  a  ghost  that 
haunted  a  house  in  Cock  Lane  gained  general  belief.  Boswell  in  his 
Life  of  Johnson  maintains  that  Johnson  was  one  of  those  who  detected 
the  imposture.  The  basis  for  the  story  of  the  ghost  was  the  noises 
started  in  a  dwelling  on  Cock  Lane  for  the  amusement  of  the  occupants 
and  then  kept  up  in  order  to  gull  the  public.  (See  also  Chapter  XIII 
of  Irving's  Goldsmith.} 

43  9.   turnspit-dog.     Formerly  dogs  were  used  in  treadmills  to  turn 
the  pointed  rod  on  which  meat  was  fixed  before  a  fire  to  be  turned  and 
roasted.    The  practice  of  having  animals  like  sheep,  horses,  and  dogs  fur- 
nish the  power  for  the  running  of  different  machines  is  still  to  be  observed 
in  some  regions.     A  pet  sheep  or  dog  sometimes  now  turns  a  churn,  and 
horses  in  a  treadmill  make  the  buzz  saw  whirl  for  the  cutting  of  wood. 

44  19.    say  nothing.     In  his  description  of  the  Dutch  lover  in  Tales 
of  a  Traveller,  Irving  writes :  "This  youngster  [Dirk  Waldron]  gradu- 
ally became  an  intimate  visitor  of  the  family.     He  talked  little,  but  he 
sat  long.     He  filled  the  father's  pipe  when  it  was  empty,  gathered  up 
the  mother's  knitting-needle  or  ball  of  worsted  when  it   fell   to  the 
ground  :  stroked  the  sleek  coat  of  the  tortoise-shell  cat,  and  replenished 
the  teapot  for  the  daughter  from  the  bright  copper  kettle  that  sang 
before  the  fire.    All  these  quiet  little  offices  may  seem  of  trifling  import; 
but  when  true  love  is  translated  into  Low  Dutch,  it  is  in  this  way  that 
it  eloquently  expresses  itself."     The  luminous  sentence,  "  He   talked 
little,  but  he  sat  long,"  could  scarcely  be  improved  upon.     In  fact,  the 
whole  passage  shows  Irving's  characteristically  quiet  humor  at  its  best. 
Try  to  decide  what  is  the  difference  between  Goldsmith's  humor  as  seen 
in  his  letter  to  Bryanton,  Chapter  IV,  and  Irving's  humor  as  illustrated 
in  the  selection  quoted  above. 

45 11.  fair.  An  unusual  substantive ;  compare,  "  None  but  the 
brave  deserve  the  fair." 

46  25.  the  Highlands.  This  region  of  Scotland  is  the  scene  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  poem  The  Lady  of  the  Lake. 

49  11.  La  Mancha.  Compare  a  similar  allusion  in  Chapter  III.  Don 
Quixote  de  La  Mancha  is  the  Spanish  gentleman  who  sets  forth  with 


NOTES 


359 


his  squire,  Sancho  Panza,  in  search  of  adventures,  and  who  enjoys  plenty 
of  excitement  in  the  course  of  his  travels.  Don  Quixote  is  the  title  of 
the  book  in  which  these  absurd  fictitious  adventures  are  recorded. 
The  story  was  written  in  the  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  by 
Cervantes,  a  Spanish  author,  who,  like  Samuel  Johnson,  was  once 
imprisoned  for  debt. 

51 19.  well-clothed  vegetable.  In  the  third  paragraph  of  "  Wolfert 
Webber,"  Irving  himself  dubbed  a  Hollander  a  vegetable:  "The  Web- 
ber dynasty  continued  in  uninterrupted  succession.  .  .  .  The  eldest 
son  succeeded  to  the  looks,  as  well  as  the  territory,  of  his  sire ;  and, 
had  the  portraits  of  this  line  of  tranquil  potentates  been  taken,  they 
would  have  presented  a  row  of  heads  marvellously  resembling  in  shape 
and  magnitude  the  vegetables  over  which  they  reigned." 

51 28.  Strephon.  A  lover,  the  name  being  taken  from  a  character  in 
Sir  Philip  Sidney's  Arcadia. 

55  i.  Versailles.  Distant  eleven  miles  from  Paris.  Here  the  French 
kings,  Louis  XIII,  XIV,  XV,  and  XVI,  resplendently  garbed  and 
attended  by  the  beauties  of  France,  held  court  in  their  famous  royal 
palace  during  the  period  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries. 
With  Versailles  are  connected  many  of  the  most  striking  incidents  of 
French  history.  It  was  to  Versailles,  for  instance,  that  the  French 
rabble  rushed  on  the  fifth  and  sixth  of  October,  1789,  when  the  Revolu- 
tion had  begun ;  and  it  was  here  that  the  Revolutionists  of  France  first 
became  conscious  that  the  persons  of  their  king  and  queen  were  not 
sacred.  See  the  histories  of  this  period,  or  Tableaux  de  la  Revolution 
Franfaise,  an  historical  French  reader  (G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  1884). 

55  26.  Voltaire.  See  Lippincott's  Biographical  Dictionary,  page  2408, 
column  a :  "In  1755  he  [Voltaire]  established  himself  at  Ferney, 
near  Geneva,  in  Switzerland."  Since  Voltaire  was  near  Geneva,  Gold- 
smith could  not  have  made  his  acquaintance  in  Paris  at  this  tune. 
Dobson  comments  on  the  blunder,  page  37  of  the  Memoir,  and  page  40 
of  the  Life. 

5634.  illy.  Because  the  word  "ill "is  properly  either  an  adjective 
or  an  adverb,  and  because  ''illy,"  a  later  coinage,  has  no  real  function 
in  language,  careful  writers  avoid  "  illy  "  and  use  instead  "  ill."  J.  M. 
Hart,  in  his  Handbook  of  English  Composition,  calls  "  illy  "  a  useless 
and  incorrect  word,  which  ought  to  be  rejected  from  one's  vocabulary. 

58  14.  Padua.  The  University  of  Padua,  which  dates  back  to  the 
thirteenth  century,  is  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  distinguished  univer- 
sities on  the  Continent.  It  is  particularly  celebrated  for  its  work  in 
medicine.  Goldsmith,  according  to  painstaking  researches  made  a  few 


360  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

years  ago,  probably  did  not  receive  a  degree  at  Padua.  Irving  is  cau- 
tious on  this  point,  you  observe.  He  merely  remarks  that  Goldsmith 
"  is  said  to  have  taken  his  medical  degree  "  at  this  university. 

60  16.  thesis.  As  here  used,  "thesis"  means  "proposition,"  subject 
for  debate,  condensed  statement  of  principles  to  be  defended  by  argu- 
ment. Frequently  the  word  is  used  to  mean  the  development  of  some 
line  of  thought  in  a  written  treatise  submitted  at  college  in  satisfaction 
of  a  requirement  for  graduation. 

61 8.  "Adventures  of  a  Strolling  Player."  Read  Irving's  sketches 
entitled  "  Buckthorne  "  and  "  The  Strolling  Manager  "  in  Tales  of  a 
Traveller. 

6231.  may  I  die  of  an  anodyne  necklace.  Equivalent  to,  "may  I  be 
hanged."  An  anodyne  is  a  drug  which  relieves  or  ends  pain.  A  neck- 
lace, that  is,  a  rope  around  the  neck,  would  end  pain  for  good.  The 
language  is  of  course  figurative. 

62  32.   Newgate.    This  was  originally  the  western  gate  of  London  wall, 
was  afterward  a  prison  for  criminals  of  the  county  of  Middlesex,  and  was 
retained  until  recently  as  a  city  jail,  though  only  for  transient  prisoners. 
A  late  dispatch  from  London  to  one  of  the  New  York  newspapers  an- 
nounces that  a  magnificent  new  Central  Criminal  Court  Building  is  to  be 
erected  on  the  site  of  Newgate  Prison.    (Compare  note,  page  89,  line  6.) 

63  14.   bolster.     That  is,  pillow.    The  word  is  gradually  passing  from 
use.     Compare  Milton's  Comus: 

"  Perhaps  some  cold  bank  is  her  bolster  now, 
Or  'gainst  the  rugged  bark  of  some  broad  elm 
Leans  her  unpillowed  head,  fraught  with  sad  fears." 

6328.  Bankside,  Southwark.  A  suburban  neighborhood  of  London 
on  the  south  bank  of  the  Thames.  The  Globe  Theater,  where  Shakes- 
peare acted,  was  situated  there. 

64  6.   precarious  assistance  from  his  pen.     Goldsmith  only  shared  the 
lot  of  other  writers  of  the  time.     Macaulay  gives  in  his  Johnson  a  vivid 
picture  of  the  struggles  of  that  author  during  his  early  years  in  London. 

64  28.   .ffisculapius.     The  god  of  medicine  in  Greek  mythology. 

6533.  ignorant  of  Arabic.  A  characteristic  touch  showing  Goldsmith's 
extremely  impractical  nature.  Certain  rough  Arabic,  or  more  precisely, 
Aramaic  writings  on  the  rocks  of  Mt.  Sinai  were  the  subject  of  much 
conjecture  in  Goldsmith's  time.  These  inscriptions  were  scientifically 
studied  and  explained  a  century  later.  They  were  written  or  engraved 
on  the  rocks  in  the  early  centuries  of  the  Christian  era  by  the  Naba- 
taeans,  a  people  of  northern  Arabia. 


NOTES  361 

664.  teem.  Does  the  use  of  this  word  here  indicate  poverty  in 
Irving's  vocabulary,  inasmuch  as  he  used  the  same  word  for  the  same 
idea  three  paragraphs  back  ? 

6821.  Whig  principles.  Two  great  political  parties  —  Whigs  and 
Tories  —  arose  about  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century  in  England. 
The  Whigs,  who  professed  more  liberal  principles  than  the  Tories,  stood 
for  trade,  for  the  expansion  of  the  influence  of  England  throughout  the 
world  by  commercial  activity.  They  were  for  bold  and  vigorous  action 
in  all  political  matters.  From  the  accession  of  George  I  till  the  early 
years  of  George  Ill's  reign,  they  directed,  for  nearly  fifty  years,  the  gov- 
ernment of  England  almost  absolutely.  The  name  became  gradually 
disused  after  about  1832.  The  Tories,  on  the  other  hand,  whose  strength 
lay  in  the  country  clergy  and  gentry,  believed  in  the  policy  of  holding 
closely  to  old  methods,  of  maintaining  the  existing  order,  of  leaving 
customs  of  long  standing  undisturbed.  They  were  more  powerful  than 
the  Whigs  in  English  politics  from  about  1760  till  1830.  From  the  life 
and  characteristics  of  Goldsmith  as  already  presented,  would  he  be  likely 
to  side  enthusiastically  with  either  party? 

6921.  antiqua  mater  of  Grub  Street.  Compare  The  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field,  Chapter  XXI,  third  paragraph.  Antiqua  mater  means  ancient  or 
venerable  mother.  Grub  Street  was  where  the  poorer  writers  had  their 
lodgings.  By  saying  that  he  hailed  the  "  antiqua  mater  of  Grub  Street " 
with  reverence,  George  Primrose  meant,  therefore,  that  he  entered  rev- 
erently upon  the  profession  of  writing. 

70  8.  literary  hack.  References  to  authors  who  devoted  their  ener- 
gies to  the  making  of  perfunctory  essays,  prefaces,  and  translations, 
when  orders  were  given  for  such  by  the  publishers,  are  constantly  found 
in  the  biographies  of  Johnson,  Goldsmith,  Steele,  Addison,  and  other 
seventeenth-  and  eighteenth-century  writers.  There  are  poor  authors 
doing  similar  work  in  New  York  City  to-day. 

7525.  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen.  Luke  xvi,  19:  "There  was 
a  certain  rich  man,  which  was  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  fared 
sumptuously  every  day." 

76  6.  garret  in  the  Haymarket.  The  Haymarket,  which  was  a  London 
market  established  in  1644,  is  now  a  square  in  London.  This  story  of 
Addison's  lodgings  is  told  also  in  Macaulay's  Essay  on  Addison,  para- 
graph 53 :  "  Addison  then  occupied  a  garret  up  three  pair  of  stairs,  over 
a  small  shop  in  the  Haymarket." 

76  26.  the  Muses.  The  Muses  in  classic  mythology  were  the  inspir- 
ing goddesses  of  art,  music,  science,  and  literature.  Lines  25-30  mean, 
then,  if  expressed  literally,  that  poverty  often  impels  a  man  to  begin 


362  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

writing  poetry,  and  that  he  usually  stays  poor  while  he  continues  to  write 
poetry.     (See  page  12,  line  14.) 

77  21.   Usher.     A  scholarly  Irish  bishop,  whose  chronology  of  the 
Bible  was  accepted  as  standard  for  many  years. 

78  16.   mountain  will  not  come.     In  1849,  tne  vear  °f  the  publication 
of  Oliver   Goldsmith,   Irving  published  Mahomet  and  His  Successors. 
Mahomet  or  Mohammed  was  the  founder  of  the  religion  which  is  called 
Mohammedanism.     When  he  announced  his  system,  the  Arabs  wanted 
proofs.     "  Do  miracles,"  said  they,  "  like  Moses  and  Jesus."     To  this 
Mohammed  replied,  "  It  would  be  tempting  God  to  do  so,  and  would 
bring  down  his  anger."     Then,  urged  further,  in  order  to  satisfy  them, 
he  commanded  Mount  Safa  to  come  to  him.     When  it  did  not  stir,  he 
said,  "  God  is  merciful.     Had  the  mountain  obeyed  my  words,  it  would 
have  fallen  on  us  to  our  destruction.    I -will  therefore  go  to  the  mountain, 
and  thank  God  he  has  mercy  on  a  stiff-necked  generation."     Thus,  a 
proverb  often  quoted  had  its  origin  in  this  expression  of  the  prophet 

i  Mohammed. 

79  23.   Raleigh.      During  his  twelve  years  of  imprisonment  in  the 
Tower  of  London,  Raleigh  (or  Ralegh)  wrote  his  History  of  the  World, 
essays  on  political  subjects  of  the  day,  a  book  on  the  invention  of  ships, 
and  one  on  the  art  of  naval  warfare.     By  all  these  he  hoped  to  win  the 
favor  of  King  James  I,  but  he  only  increased  the  dislike  of  the  king, 
who  thought  he  discovered  treason  in  the  history.     Raleigh  is  said  to 
have  thrown  the  second  part  of  this  History  of  the  World  into  the  fire 
because  the  sale  of  the  first  part  was  not  satisfactory.     (Ralegh  —  His 
Exploits  and  Voyages,  by  G.  M.  Towle.) 

80  31.   the  union.    That  is,  the  formal  joining  of  England  and  Ireland 
into  one  government  with  a  central  parliament  at  London.     This  union 
was  accomplished  by  statute  adopted  in  1800,  to  go  into  effect  January  i, 
1801. 

81  7.   Edward  Mills.     This  is  one  of  the  cases  where  the  present  edi- 
tion differs  from  the  first  edition  (Geo.  P.  Putnam,  155  Broadway,  New 
York,  1849)  and  from  the  Tauchnitz  edition  (Leipzig,  1850).    The  edition 
of  1850  has  Wells  in  every  case  for  Mills;  the  1849  edition  reads  Wells 
in  two  places  (page  81,  line  7,  and  page  82,  line  13),  but  has  Mills  else- 
where (page  81,  line  21,  and  page  97,  line  10).     The  passage  containing 
the  word  does  not  appear  in  Irving's  original  biographical  sketch  of 
Goldsmith,  viz.,  The  Life  of  Goldsmith,  with  Selections  from  his  Writings, 
in  two  volumes  (Harper  and  Bros.,  82  Cliff  Street,    New  York,  1840). 
Another  case  where  the  first  edition  has  not  been  followed  is  page  18, 
line  27,  where  the  earliest  text  makes  Goldsmith  enter  college  in  1747, 


NOTES 


363 


but  where  the  Tauchnitz  has  changed  to  1744,  which  Austin  Dobson 
(Memoir,  page  13,  and  Life,  page  20)  considers  correct,  though  Prior  and 
Forster  read  1745.  A  third  case  is  page  47,  line  31,  where  the  first  edition 
has  Hammel,  but  where  Uobson,  probably  following  the  large  encyclo- 
pedias like  Larousse,  reads  Hamel.  One  of  the  most  curious  blunders 
found  in  the  first  edition  and  in  the  Tauchnitz,  but  corrected  here, 
is  in  page  54,  line  13;  the  year  1775  obviously  ought  to  be  1755.  Sti11 
another  case  is  page  145,  line  33,  where  the  word  Gosford  of  the  first 
edition  has  been  changed  to  Gosfield,  a  well-known  place  in  Essex  (see 
map  of  London  in  Century  Atlas).  Lastly,  on  page  244,  line  30,  Carle  of 
the  earliest  editions  has  been  changed  to  Carte,  the  correct  form  of  the 
name  of  this  historian.  Other  changes  need  not  be  mentioned.  Some 
of  the  mistakes  indicate  carelessness  or  haste  on  Irving's  part;  most  of 
the  changes  are  merely  the  correction  of  printers'  errors.  It  is  advisable 
to  point  out  on  page  86,  line  10,  a  peculiar  idiom  which  may  seem  at 
first  glance  a  misprint;  and  on  page  138,  line  10,  a  downright  mistake 
in  grammar  by  Irving,  a  mistake  which  has  come  all  the  way  from  the 
1840  sketch  to  the  present  edition. 

83  22.  uncle  Contarine.  His  death  is  spoken  of  in  the  first  paragraph 
of  Chapter  VI.  Is  this  consistent  with  the  statement  here?  (See  also 
the  next  to  the  last  paragraph  in  Chapter  V.) 

85  7.    tacitly.     Is  Goldsmith  accurate  in  the  use  of  this  word  ? 

85  11.   had   rather.     "Had  rather"  is   as  correct  an   expression   as 
"  would   rather,"    which    some    rhetoricians    say   should    be   used   in 
preference. 

86  14.    Butler  and  Otway.      Samuel  Butler,  the  author  of  the  cele- 
brated satire  of  Hudibras,  and  Thomas  Otway,  author  of  many  plays 
such  as   The  Orphan  and    Venice  Preserved.     Butler's  misfortunes  are 
referred  to  in  the  first  paragraph  of  Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns.     Otway 
died  in  a  squalid  shop,  close  to  the  prison  where  he  spent  his  last  days. 

884.  coast  of  Coromandel.  This  is  the  southeastern  coast  of  India. 
Madras  is  the  principal  city.  See  Century  Dictionary  for  unusual 
meaning  of  the  word  "factories." 

89  6.    the  Old  Bailey.     Just  as  nowadays  wretched  habitations  usu- 
ally cluster  about  the  city  prisons,  so  in  the  age  of  Goldsmith  poverty 
and  filth  reigned  near  the  jails  like  Newgate,  Fleet,  and  the  Old  Bailey, 
which  were  all  in  the  same  section  of  the  city.    A  new  prison,  according 
to  a  recent  newspaper  dispatch  from  London,  is  to  be  built  on  the  site 
of  the  Old  Bailey. 

90  14.    College  of  Surgeons.     The  article  on  London  in  Chambers's 
Encyclopedia  gives  details  about  this  building.     It  was  situated  on  the 


364  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

south  side. of  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  once  the  largest  public  square  of 
London.  In  the  building  erected  in  1835  are  to  be  seen  several  pictures 
by  Hogarth  and  Reynolds. 

96 12.  another  publication,  i.e.  "  The  Club  of  Queer  Fellows "  in 
Tales  of  a  Traveller,  first  published  in  1824.  The  part  which  precedes 
the  passage  quoted  in  the  Oliver  Goldsmith  is  of  interest  as  suggesting 
something  disproved  by  later  scholars,  that  is,  that  Goldsmith  wrote 
The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  in  Green  Arbor  Court ;  and  as  illustrating 
further  Irving's  delightful  style  in  the  Tales  of  a  Traveller: 

"  As  it  was  now  growing  late,  we  parted  for  the  evening,  though  I  felt  anxious 
to  know  more  of  this  practical  philosopher  [Dribble],  I  was  glad,  therefore, 
when  Buckthorne  proposed  to  have  another  meeting,  to  talk  over  old  school  times, 
and  inquired  his  schoolmate's  address.  The  latter  seemed  at  first  a  little  shy  of 
naming  his  lodgings,  but  suddenly,  assuming  an  air  of  hardihood  —  'Green 
Arbor  Court,  sir,'  exclaimed  he  — '  Number  —  in  Green  Arbor  Court.  You 
must  know  the  place  Classic  ground,  sir,  classic  ground !  It  was  there  Gold- 
smith wrote  his  Vicar  of  Wakefield — I  always  like  to  live  in  literary  haunts.' 

"  I  was  amused  with  his  whimsical  apology  for  shabby  quarters.  On  our  way 
homeward,  Buckthorne  assured  me  that  this  Dribble  had  been  the  prime  wit 
and  great  wag  of  the  school  in  their  boyish  days,  and  one  of  those  unlucky- 
urchins  denominated  bright  geniuses.  As  he  perceived  me  curious  respecting  his 
old  schoolmate,  he  promised  to  take  me  with  him  in  his  proposed  visit  to  Green 
Arbor  Court. 

"  A  few  mornings  afterward  he  called  upon  me,  and  we  set  forth  on  our  expe- 
dition. He  led  me  through  a  variety  of  singular  alleys,  and  courts,  and  blind 
passages ;  for  he  appeared  to  be  perfectly  versed  in  all  the  intricate  geography  of 
the  metropolis.  At  length  we  came  out  upon  Fleet  Market,  and  traversing  it, 
turned  up  a  narrow  street  to  the  bottom  of  a  long  steep  flight  of  stone  steps, 
called  Breakneck  Stairs.  These,  he  told  me,  led  up  to  Green  Arbor  Court,  and 
that  down  them  poor  Goldsmith  might  many  a  time  have  risked  his  neck.  When 
we  entered  the  court,  I  could  not  but  smile  to  think  in  what  out-of-the-way 
corners  genius  produces  her  bantlings !  And  the  muses,  those  capricious  dames, 
who,  forsooth,  so  often  refuse  to  visit  palaces,  and  deny  a  single  smile  to  votaries 
in  splendid  studies  and  gilded  drawing-rooms,  —  what  holes  and  burrows  will  they 
frequent  to  lavish  their  favors  on  some  ragged  disciple ! 

"  This  Green  Arbor  Court  I  found  to  be  a  small  square,  surrounded  by  tall 
and  miserable  houses,"  etc.,  as  in  the  Oliver  Goldsmith. 

Goldsmith  lived  from  1758  to  1760  in  this  court  (erroneously  called 
Green  Anchor  Court  by  A.  J.  C.  Hare,  Vol.  I,  p.  169,  Walks  in  London). 
The  court  began  at  the  upper  end  of  the  Old  Bailey.  Dickens  often 
visited  the  region  with  Irving.  "  I  should  love  to  go  with  you,"  he 
writes  to  Irving,  "as  I  have  gone,  God  knows  how  often,  into  Little 
Britain  and  Eastcheap  and  Green  Arbor  Court  and  Westminster  Abbey." 


NOTES  365 

By  pilgrimages  to  places  around  which  centered  memories  of  Goldsmith, 
Irving  came  naturally  to  a  feeling  of  almost  personal  regard  and  admi- 
ration for  him.  This  attitude  of  Irving's  is  to  be  kept  clearly  in  ,mind 
when  one  is  reading  the  biography. 

99  1 1.  happiness  that  man  never  tastes.  There  is  a  passage  of  similar 
thought  in  Ruskin's  Sesame  and  Lilies :  "  But  the  best  romance  becomes 
dangerous,  if,  by  its  excitement,  it  renders  the  ordinary  course  of  life 
uninteresting,  and  increases  the  morbid  thirst  for  useless  acquaintance 
with  scenes  in  which  we  shall  never  be  called  upon  to  act." 

106  7.  Ishmaelites.  Descendants  of  Ishmael,  son  of  Abraham.  Ish- 
mael  and  his  mother  Hagar  were  driven  into  the  wilderness.  Genesis 
xxi,  14-16:  "And  Abraham  rose  up  early  in  the  morning,  and  took 
bread,  and  a  bottle  of  water,  and  gave  it  unto  Hagar,  putting  it  on  her 
shoulder,  and  the  child,  and  sent  her  away :  and  she  departed,  and  wan- 
dered in  the  wilderness  of  Beersheba.  And  the  water  was  spent  in  the 
bottle,  and  she  cast  the  child  under  one  of  the  shrubs.  And  she  went, 
and  sat  her  down  over  against  him  a  good  way  off,  as  it  were  a  bowshot : 
for  she  said,  Let  me  not  see  the  death  of  the  child.  And  she  sat  over 
against  him,  and  lift  up  her  voice,  and  wept."  An  Ishmaelite  of  the 
press  was  therefore  a  writer  who  felt  himself  cast  out  by  public  opinion 
and  deprived  of  his  just  dues.  In  applying  the  term  Ishmaelite  to 
Kenrick,  the  author  dealt  more  gently  with  him  than  he  deserved.  But 
see  page  187,  line  24,  and  page  341,  lines  4,  14. 

106  28.   St.  John's  gate.     This  still  exists  in  Clerkenwell.     It  stands 
now  amid  mean  houses  and  cheap  shops,  and  is  all  that  is  left  of  a  once 
splendid  church.     The  original    Priory  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem  was 
founded  in  the  year  uoo,  and  dedicated  in  1185  by  Heraclius,  Patriarch 
of  Jerusalem,  who  came  to  England  for  money  to  help  in  one  of  the  cru- 
sades.  The  present  gate  belongs  to  the  English  Knights  of  St.  John,  who 
have  established  an  ambulance  station  beside  it.   (W.  Besant's  London) 

10723.  'Provoked  Husband.'  Begun  by  Vanbrugh,  and  finished  by 
Gibber,  this  drama  was  first  played  in  1728. 

107  31.   caput  mortuum.     Literally,  "  a  dead  head,"  then  extended  to 
mean  something  from  which  all  valuable  attributes  have  been  taken  away. 

108  4.   a  wit.    Goldsmith's  statement  that  one  Saxon  word  meant  both 
"  wit "  and  "  witch"  is  unwarranted.   By  Saxon  Goldsmith  evidently  meant 
Anglo-Saxon  or  Old  English.     The  Anglo-Saxon  word  for   "  witch  " 
was  wicce.    There  was  no  Anglo-Saxon  word  for  "  wit,"  in  the  sense  of  a 
person  possessing  wit ;  the  Anglo-Saxon  (y)witt  meant  "intellect,"  "  un- 
derstanding"; wita  meant  "wise  man,"  "councillor."  (Sweet,  Student's 
Dictionarv  of  Anglo-Saxon  ;  and  Kluge  and  Lutz,  English  Etymology.) 


366  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

111  5.  Bickerstaff.  Isaac  Bickerstaff  was  an  Irish  dramatist.  Do 
not  confuse  the  name  of  this  actual  man  of  letters  with  Swift's  pseu- 
donym of  Bickerstaff. 

11428.  "Great  Cham."  Smollett's  letter  containing  this  epithet  is 
printed  in  Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson.  It  can  readily  be  found  there  by 
reference  to  the  Index.  A  little  later  in  this  chapter  Johnson  is  called 
the  "  Ursa  Major  "  of  literature,  that  is,  the  Great  Bear,  a  constellation 
the  principal  stars  of  which  make  the  Dipper. 

11432.  Wine-Office  Court.  The  house,  No.  6,  Wine-Office  Court, 
where  Goldsmith  lived,  is  now  shored  up  and  will  soon  have  to  be  torn 
down  or  it  will  fall  itself. 

116  8.  George  Steevens.  His  work  as  an  editor  of  Shakespeare  has 
been  of  much  service  to  subsequent  editors. 

116 14.  Aristophanes  of  the  day.  By  the  ordinary  educated  man, 
Aristophanes,  who  was  a  celebrated  Greek  satiric  dramatist,  is  best 
remembered  on  account  of  his  famous  frog  chorus,  in  his  comedy 
entitled  The  Frogs,  405  B.C.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  Samuel  Foote 
(1720-1777)  should  also  be  best  remembered,  not  because  of  his  satir- 
ical powers  as  a  dramatist,  in  which  he  somewhat  resembled  Aris- 
tophanes, but  because  of  his  nonsense  sentences,  first  published  at  the 
sign  of  the  Golden  Bladder  in  Fleet  Street,  London,  in  1760:  "  So  she 
went  out  into  the  garden  to  get  a  cabbage  leaf  to  make  an  apple  pie.  A 
bear  popped  its  head  into  the  shop  and  said,  '  What,  no  soap  ? '  So  he 
died,  and  she  very  imprudently  married  the  barber.  And  the  pond- 
lilies  and  the  gargillies  and  the  little  Panjandrum  with  the  great  big 
button  on  top  were  present  at  the  wedding,  and  the  children  laughed 
till  the  gunpowder  ran  out  of  the  heels  of  their  shoes."  Ask  your 
parents  if  they  ever  learned  anything  like  this  when  they  were  children. 
The  versions  differ  greatly. 

The  origin  of  these  nonsense  sentences  is  amusing.  Foote  frequently 
attended  miscellaneous  coffee-house  lectures  given  by  one  Macklin. 
At  the  close  of  the  lectures  Foote  liked  to  joke  Macklin  about  things 
he  had  said.  On  one  occasion  Macklin  made  the  statement  that  he 
could  learn  anything  by  heart  on  a  single  reading.  Foote  scribbled  off 
the  nonsense  quoted  above,  handed  it  to  the  lecturer,  and  was  greatly 
pleased  when  Macklin  confessed  it  was  too  much  for  him.  Many  of 
Foote's  bright  sayings  may  be  found  in  a  little  volume  of  about  two 
hundred  pages,  Bon  Mots  of  Samuel  Foote  and  Theodore  Hook,  published 
by  J.  M.  Dent  &  Co.,  London,  1894. 

119  14.  Aleppo.  See  Macbeth,  Act  I,  Scene  3,  line  7  :"  Her  husband 's 
to  Aleppo  gone,  master  o'  the  Tiger."  Locate  Aleppo. 


NOTES  367 

120  23.  "  White  Conduit  House."  In  Knight's  Illustrated  History  of 
England,  Vol.  VII,  page  96,  there  is  a  picture  of  the  White  Conduit 
House  as  it  was  in  1749.  It  was  near  Islington,  in  the  suburbs,  and 
was  an  especial  resort  of  the  citizens.  (See  page  180,  line  18,  and  page 
190,  line  28.) 

122  11.  literary  gossipings.  Observe  that  Irving  cites  several  of 
these  bits  of  gossip  in  succeeding  paragraphs.  This  sentence,  then, 
serves  as  topic  sentence  for  six  paragraphs. 

124  17.  Mitre  Tavern.  The  Mitre  which  was  Dr.  Johnson's  favorite 
resort  stood  in  Mitre  Court,  off  Fleet  Street.  There  were,  however, 
other  Mitre  Taverns  in  London. 

126  2.  Hogarth  the  painter.  Hogarth's  paintings  gained  him  great 
reputation  in  his  day.  They  aimed  to  expose  the  follies  of  English  life 
of  the  period.  His  engravings  are  also  well  known.  Hogarth's  works 
differ  from  Reynolds's  in  method  of  treatment  and  nature  of  subject. 

137  9.    Oratorio.     See  dictionary  and  decide  whether  Goldsmith  was 
qualified  to  succeed  in  this  kind  of  composition. 

138  33.   quarto  form.     The  quarto  was  a  book  made  of  sheets  which 
were  folded  twice,  so  that  each  sheet  made  four  leaves.     The  size  of 
each  page  was  therefore  large. 

141  19.  guineas.  A  guinea  has  twenty-one  shillings,  a  pound  has 
twenty.  (See  fourth  from  the  last  paragraph  in  Chapter  XLII.) 

145  15.    beautiful  ballad.     In  a  ballad,  an  author  tells  a  story  of  love 
or  adventure,  usually  in  four-line  stanzas.     The  old  ballads  in  Percy's 
collection  should  be  looked  into,  or  if  Percy's  collection  is  not  accessi- 
ble, the  student  may  be  able  to  find  a  copy  of  Gummere's  Old  English 
Ballads.     Almost  every  one  enjoys  reading  these  ballads  aloud.     Their 
condensed  statements  of  what  happens,  their  practical  English  spirit, 
their  rhythmical  swing,  and  their  interesting  themes  combine  to  make 
the  reading  of  them  enjoyable. 

146  32.    strenuously.     As  the  pupil's  vocabulary  becomes  enlarged 
and  as  he  gains  wider  familiarity  with  different  shades  of  meaning  of 
the  same  word,  certain  associations  become  connected  with  various 
words.     "Strenuously"  has  at  present  many  associations.     Just  what 
does  the  word  mean  ? 

149  2.  beneath  their  dignity.  An  author  dear  to  boys  and  girls  and 
to  grown  people  as  well,  the  late  Lewis  Carroll,  whose  real  name  was 
Charles  L.  Dodgson,  much  preferred  to  be  known  as  the  writer  of  a  dry 
mathematical  book  than  as  the  creator  of  the  delectable  Alice  of  Alice's 
Adventures  in  Wonderland  and  Through  The  Looking-Glass  and  What 
Alice  Found  There. 


368  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

152  6.   and  who.    "  And  "  should  join  two  or  more  words,  phrases,  or 
clauses  of  equal  rank  and  similar  form ;  it  should  not  join  a  word  or  a 
phrase  with  a  clause.     Many  writers,  however,  habitually  disregard  this 
rhetorical  principle.     In  this  particular  passage,  for  instance,  Irving  is 
inaccurate  in  his  construction,  because  "  who  had  had  "  is  a  clause,  but 
"  the  arbiter  of  British  talent  "  is  not  a  clause. 

15223.  the  great  genius  of  Germany.  Just  as  Shakespeare  is  the  great 
literary  genius  of  England,  and  Hugo  of  France,  so  Goethe  (1749-1832) 
is  of  Germany.  His  best  known  work  is  Faust,  which  has  been  trans- 
lated, if  not  like  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  into  "almost  every  language," 
certainly  into  many  languages. 

153  20.   and  which.     See  note  above  on  "  and  who." 

160  16.   the  Continental  tour.     The  university  student  whose  parents 
were  wealthy  was  ordinarily  sent  off  to  the  Continent  for  a  tour,  usually 
called  the  Grand  Tour.    By  this  period  of  travel  it  was  thought  that  the 
student  gained  ease  of  manner  and  general  knowledge  of  life.     Milton 
and  Gibbon  are  among  the  celebrated  English  authors  who  in  the  days 
of  their  youth  took  the  Grand  Tour. 

161  4.   drudging.    Could  this  word  be  replaced  by  another  that  would 
fit  into  the  sentence  better  ? 

16521.  Shebbeare.  John  Shebbeare  (1709-1788)  was  an  English 
physician,  who  attained  some  little  celebrity  in  the  eighteenth  century 
by  his  political  writings. 

16833.  Churchill's  "Rosciad."  Charles  Churchill  (1731-1764),  at 
first  a  curate,  gave  up  this  profession  at  about  the  age  of  thirty  and  for 
a  few  years  practiced  the  writing  of  poetry.  His  Rosciad  (1761)  pun- 
gently  satirizes  actors  and  stage  managers  of  the  day.  The  title  of  the 
play  comes  from  the  name  of  a  celebrated  Roman  actor,  Roscius,  con- 
temporary with  Cassar  and  Cicero. 

17026.  "rare  Ben  Jonson."  Ben  Jonson  (1574-1637),  a  dramatist 
whom  Shakespeare  knew,  is  one  of  the  many  English  writers  unfortu- 
nate enough  to  taste  prison  life.  Like  Goldsmith,  he  traveled  on  the 
Continent,  serving  at  one  time  in  Flanders  as  a  soldier.  His  best  plays 
are  Every  Man  in  his  Humour  and  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour. 
These  are  distinctly  inferior  to  Shakespeare's  dramas  from  the  very 
fact  indicated  in  the  titles ;  they  deal  with  the  manners  or  humours  of 
people,  that  is,  with  special  phases  of  human  nature,  rather  than  with 
human  nature  as  a  whole.  (Stopford  A.  Brooke,  English  Literature) 

174  34.   and  who.     Compare  note  on  page  1 52,  line  6. 

176  14.  Whitehead,  the  laureate.  A  list  of  the  predecessors  and  suc- 
cessors of  Whitehead  as  poet  laureate  will  be  found  in  Chambers. 


NOTES  369 

William  VVhitehead  held  the  office  from  1757  to  1785.  He  was  a 
person  of  no  poetical  ability.  Is  the  present  laureate  of  England  a 
notable  poet  ? 

177  17.  warm.  The  meaning  of  "warm"  here  can  be  rendered  by 
a  common  colloquialism. 

179ll.  Tom  Davies,  the  sometime  Roscius.  See  note  on  page  168, 
line  33.  Consider  what  Irving  gains  by  calling  Davies  a  "sometime 
Roscius,"  instead  of  a  former  actor. 

18431.  books  of  his  tailor.  Further  light  on  this  allusion  to  the 
tailor's  books  may  be  obtained  from  Mr.  Pierre  M.  Irving's  Life  and 
Letters  of  Washington  Irving:  "Speaking  to  Mr.  Irving  of  this  biog- 
raphy of  Goldsmith,  soon  after  its  appearance,  I  asked  him  if  he  had 
introduced  any  anecdotes  not  in  Prior's  or  Forster's  Life  of  him. 
'  No,'  playfully,  '  I  could  not  invent  any  new  ones ;  but  I  have  altered 
the  setting,  and  have  introduced  —  not  in  their  biography — Madame 
Darblay's  anecdote  about  Boswell  and  Johnson,  which  is  capital.  I 
have  also  made  more  of  the  Jessamy  Bride,  by  adverting  to  the  dates  in 
the  tailor's  bill,  and  fixing  thereby  the  dates  of  certain  visits  to  her." 

187  21.  green-rooms.  Rooms  near  the  stage  for  the  use  of  actors 
during  the  intervals  of  a  play.  Originally  such  rooms  were  decorated 
in  green ;  hence,  according  to  Century  Dictionary,  the  origin  of  the 
word  "  green-room." 

189  13.   his  ample  fortune.     Notice  the  tone  of  gentle  irony  running 
through  this  paragraph.     Irving  does  not  mean  at  all,  in  a  literal  sense, 
that  he  considered  Goldsmith's  fortune  now  ample. 

190  8.     Blackstone.     Referred  to  by  Burke  in  his  Speech  on  Concilia- 
tion with   America :  "  I   hear  that  they  have  sold  nearly  as  many  of 
Blackstone's  Commentaries  in  America  as  in  England." 

191 27.  air  of  the  most  perfect  familiarity.  Compare  the  story  of 
Jenkinson's  assurance  in  entertaining  Dr.  Primrose,  Vicar  of  Wakefield, 
Chapter  XIX. 

19410.  book-building.  This  does  not  imply  that  Goldsmith  had 
learned  the  printers'  and  bookbinders'  trades.  All  through  the  biog- 
raphy Irving  speaks  in  slighting  terms  of  the  work  which  Goldsmith 
had  to  do  merely  for  a  living  as  literary  job-work,  hack  work,  and  book- 
building.  One  is  reminded  continually  of  Irving's  essay,  "The  Art  of 
Book-Making,"  in  The  Sketch-Book. 

201  12.  his  own  personal  defects.  In  constructing  a  detailed  picture 
of  Goldsmith  from  the  items  given  here  and  there  in  the  biography,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  enumerate  all  the  personal  defects  in  the  appear- 
ance of  poor  Noll.  What  were  they  ? 


3/0  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

205  7.   a  templar.     See  note  on  "  the  Temple,"  page  38,  line  6. 

206 13.  Ranelagh,  Vauxhall.  For  explanation  of  Ranelagh,  read 
Chapter  XXXV,  fifth  from  the  last  paragraph.  For  further  details 
about  Vauxhall,  turn  to  the  paper  by  Addison  in  the  Spectator  describ- 
ing Sir  Roger  de  Coverley's  visit  to  Vauxhall;  and  read  also  Gold- 
smith's description  of  the  place  in  the  fifth  paragraph  of  Chapter  XLIII. 
A  picture  of  Ranelagh  as  it  appeared  in  1751  will  be  found  in  Knight's 
History  of  England,  Vol.  VII,  page  97  ;  and  a  picture  of  Vauxhall  in 
Besant's  London,  page  379. 

212 13.  entirely.  Is  anything  gained  by  the  statement  that  the 
"  whole  "  stock  was  entirely  exhausted  ? 

216 18.  Colman.  He  does  not  rank  with  Burke,  Johnson,  and  Reyn- 
olds. In  his  day,  however,  George  Colman  was  widely  known  because 
of  his  dramas,  and  more  particularly  because  he  was  manager  of  the 
Covent  Garden  and  Haymarket  Theaters.  Pages  409-411  of  Forster's 
The  Life  and  Adventures  of  Oliver  Goldsmith  contain  a  facsimile  of  a 
letter  from  Goldsmith  to  Colman. 

220  5.   Royal  Academy.     Read  again  the  first  sentence  of  the  preced- 
ing chapter.     To  be  a  Royal  Academician  is  still  the  height  of  the 
ambition  of  many  an  English  artist.     Goldsmith's  meeting  at  the  dinner 
and  elsewhere  with  different  members  of  the  nobility  furnishes  one  of 
the  striking  phases  of  his  life,  in  contrast  to  his  mingling  with  the  guz- 
zlers of  the  taverns. 

221  3.   one  hundred  guineas.    Goldsmith  received   forty  pounds   for 
his  life  of  Parnell.     According  to  this  scale,  ought  he  to  have  received 
more  than  a  hundred  guineas  for  The  Deserted  Village  ? 

228  23.  bays.  Of  course  this  is  not  to  be  taken  literally.  The  idea 
is  that  honor  because  of  his  poetry  had  come  to  Goldsmith.  Why 
"  bays  "  has  this  meaning  will  be  easily  found. 

232  26.  picktooth.  Like  "  standerby  "  and  several  such  words  com- 
mon in  eighteenth-century  writing,  "picktooth"  is  now  used  in  a  different 
form.  What  ? 

238  l.  poet,  while  living.  A  similar  thought  appears  in  the  first  para- 
graph of  Carlyle's  Essay  on  Burns :  "  The  inventor  of  a  spinning  jenny 
is  pretty  sure  of  his  reward  in  his  own  day ;  but  the  writer  of  a  true  poem, 
like  the  apostle  of  a  true  religion,  is  nearly  as  sure  of  the  contrary." 

241  7.  a  companion-piece.  Irving  thinks  of  the  situation  as  a  picture, 
and  so  speaks  of  this  canvas  as  one  which  would  hang  well  alongside 
of  another  incident  in  Goldsmith's  life.  Compare  the  trick  played  on 
the  young  boy  Goldsmith,  Chapter  I,  or  the  Northumberland  House 
story,  Chapter  XVI. 


NOTES 


371 


243  17.  Gray  and  Mason.  Thomas  Gray  and  William  Mason,  who 
were  intimate  friends,  were  two  of  the  best  poetical  judges  of  the  time. 
Both  wrote  poetry,  and  both  were  of  sufficient  literary  training  to  give 
critical  opinions  on  the  Chatterton  forgeries. 

246  17.  a  second  Boyle.  This  was  a  sweeping  compliment  to  Beauclerc, 
not  merited  by  his  achievements.  The  name  Boyle  stands  for  the  great 
advances  in  science  and  learning  in  the  seventeenth  century.  He  was 
excelled  in  experimental  science  only  by  Lord  Bacon. 

250  30.  the  Jessamy  Bride.  A  novel  called  The  Jessamy  Bride,  by 
Mr.  Frankfort  Moore,  was  published  a  few  years  ago.  Though  fiction, 
it  gives  much  that  is  of  interest  regarding  the  kind  of  man  Goldsmith 
was.  Still  it  is  a  question  whether  the  student  will  not  find  authentic 
biography,  such  as  Forster's  The  Life  and  Adventures  of  Oliver  Gold- 
smith, on  the  whole,  more  entertaining  than  any  fiction  which  deals 
with  the  lives  of  distinguished  authors. 

255  9.  argumentum  ad  hominem.  An  argument  which  has  its  foun- 
dations not  in  logical  reasoning  but  in  an  appeal  to  the  prejudices  or 
feelings  of  the  persons  to  whom  it  is  addressed  is  called  an  argumentum 
ad  hominem.  See  Jevons,  Elementary  Lessons  in  Logic,  page  178. 

262  1.   the  reputed  author  of  "Junius."     The  question  of  who  really 
was  the  author  of  the  political  writings  signed  "  Junius  "  has  been  the 
subject  of  unlimited  discussion.  •   The  usually  accepted  view  is  that 
Sir  Philip  Francis  was  Junius. 

263  16.   the  late  George  Colman.     Like  his  father  (Chapter  XXVII), 
who  was  a  member  of  the  Club,  Colman  the  younger  wrote  many  com- 
edies and  farces,  and  was  the  proprietor  of  the  Haymarket  Theater. 
He  died  in  1836. 

265  12.  "  not  much  larger  than  Garrick."  The  small  size  of  the  actor 
Garrick  caused  him  to  be  the  butt  of  many  similar  jokes.  Foote  seems 
always  to  have  been  on  the  lookout  for  a  gibe  at  Garrick.  Johnson 
says  that  Foote  had  a  small  bust  of  Garrick  placed  upon  his  bureau, 
where  he  kept  his  money.  "  You  may  be  surprised,"  said  Foote,  "  that 
I  allow  him  to  be  so  near  my  gold ;  but  you  will  observe  he  has  no 
hands." 

267  15.   James's  powders.    Goldsmith's  persistence  in  the  use  of  these, 
to  his  material  injury,  is  alluded  to  in  Chapter  XLIV.     They  were  a 
preparation  originally  made  by  Dr.  Robert  James  (1703-1776),  and  were 
thought  to  be  efficacious  for  diseases  accompanied  by  fever. 

268  13.    Croker.      Macaulay  and  Carlyle  wrote  reviews  of  Croker's 
edition  of  BoswelPs  Life  of  Johnson.     Macaulay,  who  hated  Croker, 
said  regarding  Croker's  work  as  an  editor :  "  A  very  large  proportion 


372  OLIVER   GOLDSMITH 

of  the  two  thousand  five  hundred  notes  which  the  editor  boasts  of 
having  added  to  those  of  Boswell  consists  of  the  flattest  and  poorest 
reflections,  reflections  such  as  the  least  intelligent  reader  is  quite  com- 
petent to  make  for  himself,  and  such  as  no  intelligent  reader  would 
think  it  worth  while  to  utter  aloud.  They  remind  us  of  nothing  so 
much  as  of  those  profound  and  interesting  annotations  which  are  pen- 
cilled by  sempstresses  and  apothecaries'  boys  on  the  dog-eared  margins 
of  novels  borrowed  from  circulating  libraries ;  '  How  beautiful ! '  'Cursed 
prosy ! '  '  I  don't  like  Sir  Reginald  Malcolm  at  all  I '  '  I  think  Pelham  is 
a  sad  dandy.' "  Macaulay's  final  criticism  on  Croker's  edition  is  particu- 
larly cutting :  "  In  truth,  the  printer  and  the  editor  have  between  them 
made  the  book  so  bad  that  we  do  not  well  see  how  it  could  have  been 
worse."  Carlyle,  though  in  a  less  drastic  style,  also  condemned  the 
edition,  saying  for  instance,  "  the  Editor  will  punctually  explain  what  is 
already  sun-clear." 

269  15.  The  Stratford  jubilee.  At  this  celebration,  1769,  Boswell  fool- 
ishly tried  to  recite  a  poem,  but  because  of  his  absurd  Corsican  dress, 
his  pistols,  his  musket,  and  his  cap  bearing  the  inscription  "  Paoli  and 
Liberty,"  was  unable  to  get  a  hearing.  For  the  allusion  to  Paoli  turn 
to  what  Irving  says  in  the  seventh  paragraph  of  Chapter  XXXIX. 

276  24.  and  in  which.  Compare  this  construction  with  the  use  of 
"  and  which  "  three  paragraphs  below,  and  determine  why  Irving's  Eng- 
lish is  technically  correct  in  one  case  and  not  in  the  other. 

290  4.  Ossian  Macpherson.  The  hostility  of  James  Macpherson  (1738- 
1796)  to  the  whole  Johnson  clique  and  thus  possibly  to  Goldsmith  in 
particular  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  presentation  of  She  Stoops  to 
Conquer,  was  due  to  Johnson's  maintaining  that  Macpherson's  so-called 
translations  of  the  works  of  Ossian,  a  Gaelic  poet  of  the  third  century, 
were  not  really  translations  of  freshly  discovered  poems,  but  were  original 
compositions  by  Macpherson.  Because  of  these  translations,  which 
gained  him  much  notoriety,  Macpherson  is  dubbed  Ossian  Macpherson 
by  Irving. 

292  15.  a  slight  palliation.  Goldsmith  received,  according  to  William 
Black  (Goldsmith,  English  Men  of  Letters  Series),  from  She  Stoops  to 
Conquer,  nearly  five  hundred  pounds  from  the  three  benefits  or  "author's 
nights." 

297  6.  inroads  upon  private  life.  Much  personal  chitchat  in  the 
newspapers  of  the  present  day  has  no  justifiable  function. 

297  :)2.  Mrs.  Williams.  Among  the  queer  dependents  who  quartered 
themselves  upon  Johnson,  Mrs.  Anna  Williams,  as  she  is  called  in  Bos- 
well's  Johnson,  was  perhaps  chief.  Irving  refers  to  the  same  person  in 


NOTES  373 

Chapter  XIII  when  he  speaks  of  Miss  Williams.  A  sentence  from  a 
letter  of  Dr.  Johnson  at  the  time  of  Mrs.  Williams's  death  shows,  perhaps, 
why  Johnson  admitted  her  to  a  "  critical  conference  "  over  Goldsmith's 
letter :  "  Had  she  had  good  humor  and  prompt  elocution,  her  universal 
curiosity  and  comprehensive  knowledge  would  have  made  her  the  delight 
of  all  that  knew  her"  (Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson,  Vol.  II,  p.  447, 
T.  V.  Crowell  &  Co.,  New  York  and  Boston).  Bos  well  says  that  she 
was  "a  woman  of  more  than  ordinary  talents"  (I,  129),  and  that  she 
made  tea  with  sufficient  dexterity  notwithstanding  her  blindness,  though 
her  manner  of  seeing  whether  the  cups  were  full  or  not  was  a  little 
peculiar,  since  she  had  to  poke  her  finger  down  the  side  till  it  touched 
the  tea,  in  order  to  tell  how  much  more  to  pour  in  (I,  346). 
-  299  9.  Miss  Burney.  One  of  three  women  writers  of  England  who 
have  gained  lasting  celebrity,  the  other  two  being  Jane  Austen  and 
George  Eliot.  Miss  Frances  Burney  (Madam  D'Arblay)  published 
anonymously  at  the  age  of  twenty-six  a  novel,  Evelina,  which  imme- 
diately won  enthusiastic  praise  from  Burke  and  Johnson.  Burke, 
indeed,  sat  up  all  night  to  read  it.  Madam  D'Arblay,  because  of  the 
wide  popularity  of  this  novel,  is  often  called  Evelina  Burney. 

303  18.  Jacobitism.  After  King  James  II,  a  member  of  the  Stuart 
family,  fled  to  France  in  1688,  the  partisans  of  his  family  were  called 
Jacobites,  from  the  Latin  word  for  James,  i.e.  Jacobus  (Murray's  New 
English  Dictionary).  Even  to-day  there  are  people  in  England  who 
have  not  become  reconciled  to  the  ruling  dynasty,  but  who  consider 
that  a  Stuart  should  be  on  the  English  throne.  Do  not  confuse  Jacobite 
with  Jacobin,  which  has  an  entirely  different  meaning. 

306  27.  the  great  philologist.  Strictly  speaking,  Johnson  was  not  a 
great  philologist,  for  his  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  language  develop- 
ment was  necessarily  limited.  Lexicographer,  the  name  used  in  the 
next  chapter,  more  adequately  describes  Johnson's  real  services  in  the 
history  of  the  growth  of  the  English  language. 

311  25.  Launcelot  Gobbo  to  his  dog.  The  student  will  search  his  Merck-- 
ant of  Venice  in  vain  for  this  allusion.  Irving  has  made  a  slip.  Look  rather 
for  the  character  Launce  in  Shakespeare's  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

313  13.  Mr.  Toplady.  Augustus  Montague  Toplady  (1740-1778), 
vicar  of  Broad  Henbury,  Devonshire,  is  known  generally  on  account  of 
his  hymns,  such  as  Rock  of  Ages.  His  controversial  writings  are  pretty 
well  forgotten. 

315  28.    a  republic.     The  phrase  "  republic  of  letters"  is  common. 

318  12.  Berkeleyan  system.  Bishop  George  Berkeley  maintained 
that  there  is  no  proof  of  the  existence  of  matter  anywhere  except  in  our 


374  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH 

own  perceptions.  This  system  of  philosophy,  called  idealism,  was 
developed  in  The  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge  (1710). 

325  6.  whereabout.  Commonly  "  whereabouts"  is  used  instead  of 
whereabout,  though  the  dictionaries  recognize  both  words  as  in  good 
standing. 

325  25.  Ugolino.  Ugolino  della  Gherardesca  was  an  Italian  soldier 
who  led  the  inhabitants  of  Pisa  in  unsuccessful  war  with  the  Genoese 
and  Florentines.  He  was  finally  starved  in  prison  with  his  two  sons  and 
two  nephews.  Yet  it  happens,  strangely  enough,  that  Reynolds  did  not 
have  this  story  in  mind  when  he  painted  the  picture,  but  merely  gave 
the  title  afterwards  as  one  which  seemed  appropriate. 

328  23.  country  Christmas.  Irving's  detailed  descriptions  of  Christ- 
mas scenes  in  England  should  be  read  in  The  Sketch-Book. 

330  4.  dreary  bachelor  abode.  Irving's  several  references  to  the 
dreariness  of  Goldsmith's  bachelor  life  are  evidently  intended  to  bring 
out  the  contrast  of  what  might  have  been  if  the  poor  poet  had  married 
the  Jessamy  Bride. 

333  2.  touched  off.  Observe  that  the  same  verb  is  used  earlier  in 
the  paragraph.  Is  the  repetition  a  blemish  in  Irving's  style? 

338  29.  Ninon  de  L'Enclos.  Anne  or  Ninon  de  L'Enclos  (1620-1706) 
was  a  celebrated  French  wit  and  beauty.  Her  literary  taste  and  judg- 
ment were  much  admired  by  a  coterie  of  distinguished  Frenchmen. 

340  11.  the  Temple  Church.  See  note  on  "the  Temple,"  page  38, 
line  6. 

341 21.  Nollekens  (pronounced  nol'e-kenz).  Besides  the  bust  of 
Goldsmith,  Joseph  Nollekens  made  busts  of  Garrick  and  Sterne,  which 
are  considered  meritorious  works.  He  was  an  English  sculptor,  whose 
father,  a  painter  of  Antwerp,  had  settled  in  England.  Nollekens  was 
made  a  member  of  the  Royal  Academy  in  1772. 


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REFERENCE  BOOKS  ON  POETRY 

A  Book  of  Elizabethan  Lyrics.  Selected  and  edited  by  Professor 
FELIX  E.  SCHELLING  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 
327  pages.  List  price,  75  cents;  mailing  price,  85  cents. 

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of  Haverford  College.  380  pages.  List  price,  So  cents ;  mailing 
price,  90  cents. 

Introduction  to  the  Poetry  of  Robert  Browning.  By  Professor  WILLIAM 
J.  ALEXANDER  of  the  University  College,  Toronto.  212  pages. 
List  price,  $1.00  ;  mailing  price,  $1.10. 

Hudson's  Text-Book  of  Poetry.  By  HENRY  N.  HUDSON.  Selections 
from  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Burns,  Beattie,  Goldsmith,  and 
Thomson.  With  Lives  and  Notes.  Cloth.  704  pages.  List 
price,  $1.25;  mailing  price,  $1.40. 

Sidney's  Defense  of  Poesy.  Edited  by  Professor  ALBERT  S.  COOK  of 
Yale  University.  103  pages.  List  price,  65  cents  ;  mailing  price, 
75  cents. 

Shelley's  Defense  of  Poetry.  Edited  by  Professor  ALBERT  S.  COOK 
of  Yale  University.  86  pages.  List  price,  50  cents;  mailing 
price,  60  cents. 

Cardinal  Newman's  Essay  on  Poetry.  With  reference  to  Aristotle's 
Poetics.  Edited  by  Professor  ALBERT  S.  COOK  of  Yale  Uni- 
versity. 36  pages.  List  price,  30  cents;  mailing  price,  35  cents. 

The  Art  of  Poetry.  The  Poetical  Treatises  of  Horace,  Vida,  and 
Boileau,  with  the  translations  of  Howes,  Pitt,  and  Soame.  Edited 
by  Professor  ALBERT  S.  COOK  of  Yale  University.  303  pages, 
list  price,  $1.12  ;  mailing  price,  $1-25. 

Addison's  Criticisms  on  Paradise  Lost.  Edited  by  Professor  ALBERT 
S.  COOK  of  Yale  University,  xxiv  +  200  pages.  List  price, 
$l.oo;  mailing  price,  jj&i.io. 

What  is  Poetry?  By  Leigh  Hunt.  Edited  by  Professor  ALBERT  S. 
COOK  of  Yale  University.  98  pages.  List  price,  50  cents; 
mailing  price,  60  cents. 

A  Primer  of  English  Verse.  By  Professor  HIRAM  CORSON  of  Cornell 
University.  232  pages.  List  price,  $1.00;  mailing  price,  $1.10. 

A  Hand-Book  of  Poetics.  By  Professor  F.  B.  GUMMERE  of  Haverford 
College.  250  pages.  List  price,  $1.00;  mailing  price,  $1.10. 

Characteristics  of  the  English  Poets.  From  Chaucer  to  Shirley.  By 
WILLIAM  MiNTO.-  List  price,  $1.50;  mailing  price,  £1.65. 


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THE  CLASSIC  MYTHS  IN  ENGLISH  LITERATURE. 

Baaed  chiefly  on  Bulflnch'i  "  Age  of  Fable  "  (1855).    Accompanied  by  i 
Interpretative  and  Illustrative  Commentary. 

EDITED    BY 

CHARLES   MILLS   GAYLEY, 

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University  of  California. 


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An  introduction  on  the  indebtedness  of  English  poetry 
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mythology. 

An  elementary  account  of  myth-making  and  of  the  prin- 
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